The Turing Test
by Nienna Nir
Summary: There's a point at which a machine becomes capable of thinking for itself. Beyond that point is one at which the line between machine and man becomes so blurred that one can no longer tell the difference. When does a machine become a person, and how does that person find their place in a sea of humanity? Part of the Series: Coulson Lives but the Avengers might be the death of him.
1. Day: 1 - June 27, 2011

**Day: 1 - June 27, 2011**

"This is your ID badge," the heavyset man with close-cropped hair held out the chip of plastic, his eyes narrowing only slightly as he studied the young woman, hardly more than a girl, in front of him. She brushed her shaggy, strawberry blond hair back from her face with one hand, reaching out to take the badge with the other. He hesitated a moment before releasing it. "I've got to tell you, you're not exactly what I expected."

"Is… is that a bad thing or a good thing, Mr. Hogan? she asked, her brow furrowing curiously.

"In this case," Happy Hogan gave a smirk, reaching for the door of the security office of Stark Tower. "It's probably a good thing." He motioned her out into the hall and they headed toward the elevators.

"I'm not sure what HR might have told you," Happy began, his scrutinizing gaze returning as they walked.

"Just that there was an opening for a very high security courier and that I passed all the checks," the young woman replied. "And you know, any chance to get in the door at Stark Industries." Her voice trailed off as Happy nodded, smiling knowingly.

"Yeah," His serious expression finally broke in a slightly smug smile. "I started out as a doorman at the LA office."

"Is it all right if I ask what you'll have me doing?" She questioned as the elevator doors closed and Happy pressed the button for the lobby.

"Me?" He gave a soft chuckle, "I'm not going to have you doing anything. We're going to meet your new boss now. Well, in a manner of speaking." The elevator opened and they headed across the lobby, turning down the secured corridor behind the reception desk, both of them swiping their badges to get past the door.

"I want you to understand that you won't be allowed to discuss anything you do with anyone outside your immediate management chain," Happy began seriously. "No vague remarks over drinks with friends, absolutely nothing. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Absolutely not, sir," she shook her head emphatically as they descended a set of stairs and turned down another corridor.

"Good," Happy nodded. "Because when this came up I wasn't sure HR would be able to find anyone who'd meet our standards. You made the top of a very short list." They came to the last door at the end of the hall and Happy scanned his badge again, turning the handle.

"Ms, Marshall, this is your new office," He stated. The door swung open to reveal a neatly appointed though comfortable looking lounge with a table in the middle holding a STARK phone in a dock and a large screen TV on the wall playing nature videos. The room was bright and felt airy despite having no windows. At the very far end was a roll up garage door, and parked on the pad in front of it was a cherry red motor bike that could only be described as tricked out and a top of the line titanium bicycle with gold racing stripes.

"Oh wow," She whispered, her eyes widening.

"Jarvis?" Happy called out. "You have a minute?"

"For you, always, Mr. Hogan," a rich timbre answered with a distinctly British inflection.

"This is your new courier, Bryn Marshall."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Marshall," Jarvis' voice declared. Bryn blinked, stunned, before remembering herself.

"Likewise," she answered breathlessly.

"Jarvis," Happy continued. "Is Mr. Stark's personal… everything."

"Why thank you, Mr. Hogan," Jarvis declared, a touch of amusement in his tone. "I serve as Mr. Stark's butler and general manager of the residential floors of the tower. You'll be assisting me in the acquisition of supplies."

"You'll be taking your assignments and reporting directly to Jarvis," Happy related. "If you just say his name the system will ping him. Jarvis, do you have it from here?"

"Indeed," Jarvis answered brusquely. "I'm sure I can manage to get Ms. Marshall oriented."

"Great, I'm going back to work," Happy nodded. "If you need anything, ask Jarvis." he paused a moment.

"If you have any issues you feel he can't address, please come see me," he added as an afterthought.

"Yes, sir," Bryn nodded. Happy gave a sharp nod of his head and marched out into the corridor. She didn't let out the breath she'd been holding until the door clicked shut behind him.

"I'm the personal courier for Tony Stark," she whispered, half under her breath.

"Not entirely accurate, but serviceable," Jarvis agreed. Bryn tensed only a moment, brushing her hair back from her face.

"Sorry," she said, blushing. "I just, I was prepared to start out a little farther down the ladder than this, especially in this economy."

"You have a degree in Operations Management," Jarvis stated, amusement in his tone. "One I've no doubt you'll put to good use here. If you'll have a seat, we'll go over what you can expect on a daily basis." Bryn nodded heading for the couch, her eye sweeping the room as she sat nervously.

"Um, can you see me?" she asked.

"There are security cameras in every office and hallway in STARK tower," Jarvis replied. "but feel free to relax in this space whenever you have a break in your duties, I rarely feel the need to access the cameras and I certainly would not hold it against you if you make yourself comfortable."

"Oh," Bryn slouched back into the sofa a little, which was far more comfortable than it appeared. "Thanks."

"You surmised correctly that you will be primarily running errands for the top tier residences of STARK tower," Jarvis began, his tone business like. "Mr. Stark splits much of his time between his residence here and the one he maintains in California. Until recently I had been able to rely on standard delivery services to cover the vast majority of his needs, however, the situation has… changed."

"It's true what they're saying, isn't it?" Bryn asked, biting her lip as she looked around the room. "The Avengers are here, they're living in STARK tower, putting together a defense team to protect the planet?" Jarvis was silent for a moment as if in consideration.

"Yes," he said finally. "But I cannot stress enough how important it is that that information not be made public yet."

"My lips are sealed," Bryn replied seriously. "I can't stress enough how important it is that I do well at this job."

"Then we each have something the other wants," Jarvis answered in amusement. "I give you my word, Ms. Marshall, if you maintain discretion and perform to expectations, I will be only too happy to recommend you for any future openings you might like to apply for, indefinitely."

"Life time job reference from Stark's butler," Bryn whispered. "Quest Accepted." She drew in a steadying breath, her eyes sweeping the room once more.

"Okay, expectations then?"

"Your regular shifts will begin at eleven A.M, Monday through Friday," Jarvis began. "The last order should be completed by seven P.M. You will of course be compensated for overtime. You are not permitted to leave during your shift except to attend to your duties, however please be certain that you are allotted a minimum of ninety minutes of downtime during your shift. It is STARK Industries policy that regular breaks make for better efficiency. If you feel that your expected work load is in anyway unreasonable, please do not hesitate to mention it."

"I think I'll manage," Bryn replied confidently. "If you don't mind my asking, have you been handling the shopping yourself up until now?"

"I have standard groceries and supplies delivered every morning," Jarvis stated. "This has, however proved inadequate, partly because of the sheer volume some of our new residents consume and in part because of some of their unique… tastes."

"I had a bet with my granddad that Captain Rogers would freak out over the bananas," She blurted out before she could stop herself. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks turning pink.

"I regret to inform you that your nondisclosure agreement prevents you from collecting on that bet," Jarvis sighed. Bryn was half way into a victory fist pump before she thought better of it. "But, yes, among other things. Certain residents also have a taste for more exotic fare. Additionally there is an element of danger in trusting someone without the proper security clearance to deliver fresh items for consumption. All of this will now be your task. I will supply you appropriate lists and directions on your Stark issued phone, you will complete them as efficiently as possible."

"So, delis, asian markets, speciality stores," Bryn nodded. "Anything that doesn't come pre-packaged."

"Indeed," Jarvis confirmed. "Feel free to use either of the bikes at your discretion. You may also adapt your dress to more casual attire if you wish. My primary concern is to keep the tower as completely stocked as possible, not with the standard dress code. There is a dumbwaiter to this floor directly beside the parking pad, you can place all deliveries there." Bryn stood, checking over the dumbwaiter controls.

"Beside that is a secure panel that can only be opened by your biometrics," Jarvis added. "Please feel free to utilize it for personal items, it also contains a hand gun and SI's latest in taser technology." Bryn pressed her hand to the plate and the locker door slid back, revealing both guns.

"Okay, that's kind of awesome," she admitted, taking the taser off its rack and checking it's over.

"You'll be required to keep your conceal/carry permit up to date," Jarvis stated. "I would highly recommend for your own safety that you not leave without at least the taser. Your days will vary in activity, please feel free to utilize internet services or engage in other recreational activities here when you are not on assignment."

"Jarvis, I think I'm going to like this job a lot," Bryn declared.

"Do you have any questions, Ms. Marshall?" he asked, his tone amused.

"Bryn," She declared, her cheeks flushing almost instantly. "Um, you can call me Bryn, if you want. I mean, I'm probably more comfortable with that."

"An uncommon name," Jarvis observed, though he sounded flattered.

"It's short for Brynhildr," Bryn admitted.

"Daughter of Budli," Jarvis declared. "Shieldmaiden and valkyrie, hero of the Völsunga saga."

"You're good," Bryn struggled to hide her grin, her eyes widening in surprise and delight. "Most people don't get that."

"I am rather fond of the classics of literature," Jarvis admitted.

"That's pretty classic," she teased lightly. "My dad's a professor of ancient mythology. What's your excuse?"

"A voracious appetite for information," Jarvis replied, impassively. "Shall we begin?"

"Indeed, Jarvis," she nodded.

"If you'll direct your attention to the screen, Bryn," Jarvis stated as the picture of honey bees was replaced by a map with corresponding markers and lists. "You will see orders pending for pickup at the Japanese Deli on 47th, Le Pain Quotidien, and Radio Shack."

"Anything hot and toasty on that deli order, Jarvis?" she asked, taking the motorbike keys off their hook.

"Refrigerated and fresh items only," He replied.

"Great, I'll go there first, stop at the bakery and swing by Mr. Stark's toy store on the way back," She advised.

"Please, remember your company cell phone, Ms. Marshall," Jarvis added.

"Got it," Bryn nodded, stuffing the phone in her pocket and fixing the bluetooth bud in her ear. "Buzz me if you need me, Jarvis."

"I have you on speed dial," Jarvis replied. There was a pause as she snapped on her helmet. "Oh, and Bryn?"

"Yeah?" she stopped, looking up at the ceiling.

"I look forward to working with you."

"Thanks Jarvis," she grinned, swinging her leg over the motorbike. "Me too." The rolling door to the parking garage opened and she sped out, passing Mr Stark's limo, several sports cars and a truly beautiful antique motor cycle before exiting the secure garage, heading up the ramp and turing onto the street.

This was going to be a great job, she just knew it. She even had a cool boss.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

This story is part of a series called "Coulson Lives but the Avengers Might be the Death of him." The full list of stories and their chronological order can be found on my profile page. This particular story will span the entire timeline thus far and the story might not make sense if you haven't read at least some of the other works.


	2. Day: 6 - July 5, 2011

**Day: 6 - July 5, 2011**

The little red motor bike sped through the pouring summer rain, kicking water up from the puddles on Park Avenue as it dodged traffic. The bike darted down the parking garage entrance ramp, turning the corner as the private garage doors opened automatically.

Bryn slowed as she drove past the long row of sports cars, coming at last to the storage door at the far end that rolled up at her approach, revealing her office. She parked the bike on the pad, tugging off her rain soaked gloves and swinging her leg over the bike as she unsnapped her helmet.

"I'm back Jarvis," she announced, making a face as she shed her jacket, water running off her clothes in rivulets to puddle on the floor.

"I'm relieved to here it, Ms. Marshall," Jarvis answered. "I had not anticipated the weather changing so rapidly."

"I don't mind the rain," Bryn insisted, wringing out her polo shirt with a frown as the parking pad slowly rotated so that both bikes were once more facing the door. She popped open the saddle bag bins, pulling out the bags of groceries. "Hey, I don't suppose we have towels around here?" She triggered the release on the dumbwaiter and paused. Inside the dumbwaiter were two large towels, a pair of track pants, a t-shirt and a pair of bright red flip flops.

"Aww," She let out a breath, her expression going soft. "Jarvis, thanks, that's really great."

"Merely common courtesy," Jarvis insisted as Bryn wrapped one towel around her head and shoulders and scooped up the second towel and clothes to make room from the groceries. "I procured the clothing from Mr. Stark's private gym, I had to estimate your size." Bryn closed the dumbwaiter door before dumping the bundle on the table and holding up the shirt, taking in the Iron Man logo on the front.

"Subtle," Bryn observed before she could stop herself. She winced, biting her lip.

"That would be Mr. Stark's hallmark," Jarvis stated drily. Bryn covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her giggle.

"I think they'll fit fine," Bryn remarked, hiding her smile as she dropped the shirt on the table and collapsed into one of the chairs to pick the knots out of her soggy sneakers. "Better than spending the day soaked down to my skivvies."

"You do appear to be somewhat wetter than anticipated," Jarvis remarked. "It did not appear to be raining quite that hard."

"It wasn't too bad until some idiot bus driver plowed by me," She sighed. "He kicked up enough of a wave that I almost lost control of the bike."

"I trust you are uninjured?" Jarvis asked with a hint of worry.

"I'm fine," Bryn declared, smiling slightly. "I used to race BMX as a kid, I can handle the crazy New York traffic."

"Undoubtably your penchant for danger will serve you well at Stark Industries," Jarvis offered drolly, Bryn laughed as she peeled off her shoe and sock, wiggling her prune-like toes before tackling the laces on the other foot.

"Why can't New Yorkers drive in the rain?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "My grandparents live down in Clearwater, I used to visit them and they always complained about how the New York tourists couldn't drive in the rain. They have some monsoon rain down there."

"New Yorkers can barely drive in fair weather," Jarvis observed. "I can only imagine that any sort of precipitation is too much for them."

"I'll buy that," Bryn nodded, tugging her sneaker free. "I suppose I should think about spare clothes in my locker, huh?"

"I believe it would not go amiss," Jarvis agreed. "The storm should not last, I'd intended to send you out for pastries but perhaps a delay of an hour or so is in order."

"If you insist, boss," She joked cheerfully, ducking into the small powder room to peel off her wet clothes. "We can play board games or something to pass the time."

"Chess or checkers?" Jarvis asked.

"Seriously?" Bryn asked, her voice carrying through the door. "What about Monopoly or Scrabble?"

"I find games governed by chance to be too unpredictable to prove enjoyable," Jarvis remarked.

"You're kidding, right?" She questioned. "I thought everyone liked Monopoly. I loved Monopoly as a kid, and there's some serious strategy to it, by the way."

"Your position on the board is determined entirely by random happenstance," Jarvis pointed out. "And the game is without any appreciable method to avoid landing in Jail."

"Good-guy Jarvis doesn't like the slammer?" Bryn asked.

"Indeed."

Bryn shuffled out of the powder room in bare feet, the track pants dragging the floor just a bit as she scrubbed at her hair with the remaining towel. The office door gave off a soft chime and she froze, her hands gripping at the towel as she stared at the tall, leggy vision in Armani and Valentino.

"Awkward," Bryn observed, not even daring to move.

"I'm sorry, I should have knocked," Pepper Potts genuinely looked contrite as she eased the door shut behind her. "Jarvis gave the impression that you had an actual suite down here." Her lips pursed and her eyes flicked up to the ceiling.

"I'd hardly call this adequate space to compensate for the lack of windows, Jarvis," she remarked with a frown.

"I regret that I am not necessarily the best judge of aesthetics, Ms. Potts," Jarvis answered.

"Oh, it's fine, Ms. Potts, honest," Bryn protested. "It's almost twice the size of my loft in Brooklyn. and I'm not here that much anyway." She pulled the towel from her now fly-away hair, looking very much like a half drowned kitten that had just been blown dry.

"Well I apologize for the limited space and the barging in, in any case," Pepper declared, holding out her hand with a smile. Bryn took it cautiously, looking up at the older woman who seemed to tower over her, despite the mere inches difference in their heights. "I make it a point to meet everyone who has reason to come in contact with Mr. Stark directly."

"I've been here a week and only talked to Jarvis," Bryn admitted, shifting on her feet nervously. "I wasn't expecting to…"

"The only place we could put you logistically was at the end of Mr. Stark's private garage, I'm afraid you'll have a run-in with him eventually," Pepper Potts stated in amusement. "Jarvis, if you wouldn't mind, a bit of privacy?"

"Of course, ma'am," he answered. Pepper waited a moment, a fond smile curling her lips before she turned back to Bryn.

"Jarvis is family," She explained. "I don't know how we'd manage without him." Bryn wasn't certain what to say to that so she nodded, staring at the other woman with a hint of awe.

"This is the first time Jarvis has had direct management of an employee," Pepper admitted.

"Well I just graduated last month so it's the first time I've had a real manager." Bryn winced at her own reply, unsure what to make of the twinkle that sparked in Pepper's eye.

"He's very good at what he does," Pepper declared, matter of fact. "He's usually very good at everything he does. If he proves to not be so good at this, would you give me a call?" She held out her business card and Bryn took it cautiously, staring at it for a moment.

"Your personal cell is on here," she stated, barely more than a whisper. Pepper gave a confirming nod before turning and assessing the room with a professional eye.

"I expect you'll encounter Mr Stark and the other… residents at some point," She related, her scrutinizing gaze taking in the motor bike. "I can't say that I know the others well enough to advise you but I do know Mr. Stark. He's a scoundrel and a flirt."

"I'd heard that," Bryn confessed. Pepper smiled.

"When you work for him, he's a harmless flirt," Pepper continued. "He really has no intentions toward you, but despite my best efforts over the years, he seems unable to turn off his… suggestive repartee. If he makes you uncomfortable, tell him so directly and succinctly. In fact use those exact words."

"Yes Ma'am," Bryn nodded.

"If any of the others make you uncomfortable, tell me," Bryn blinked at the cold ice in Pepper Pott's eyes. The CEO's expression brokered no argument and for a very fleeting moment Bryn felt very, very sorry for any man foolish enough to make a woman uncomfortable in Pepper Pott's presence.

"Of course, Ma'am," she managed to squeak out when she realized Pepper was waiting for a reply.

"I really do hope this works out for you," Pepper declared, her expression brightening to something more friendly. "It's not the most glamorous job."

"It's a job at SI," Bryn pointed out. "Most of my friends think I'm lucky."

"I started here as Mr. Stark's PA just after I got my masters," Pepper declared with a conspiratorial tilt of her head.

"And look at you now," Bryn blurted before she could stop herself. Pepper let out a laugh.

"When we find good people, we like to keep them," Pepper stated. "With your background and security clearance I'm rather hoping you turn out to be very good."

"I'll do my best, Ma'am," Bryn promised.

"I'm sure you will," Pepper nodded. "I'll leave you to dry off then. Do let me know if you need anything. And if you think of anything that will make your job easier or more efficient, be sure to say something to Jarvis."

"I will ma'am," she nodded.

"Good luck Ms. Marshall," Pepper gave her a warm smile before letting herself out the door. Bryn let the air out of her lungs in a woosh as the door clicked shut, her shoulders sagging. She let out a groan as she slumped across the office collapsing face first into the sofa with a whine.

"Oh. My. God." she groaned into the cushions. "I just made an ass of myself in front of the CEO!" She let out a sound that might have been an aborted sob and the intercom beeped.

"Bryn?" Jarvis' tone was very slightly hesitant and she roller her eyes, pushing herself up just enough to be heard.

"Yeah Jarvis?" she asked.

"The rain shouldn't be letting up for another half hour at least," He informed. "If you'd like to deposit your wet shoes and clothing in the dumbwaiter, I would be happy to have laundry clean and dry them for you." Bryn smacked her head into the cushions several times.

"Thanks Jarvis," she sighed as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. "that's probably better than laying here and think of all the ways that conversation could have gone better."

"Ms. Potts can be very formidable," Jarvis allowed with the faintest hint of amusement. "I'm sure she was as impressed with you as I have been." Bryn paused, processing that information.

"You've been impressed with me?" she asked cautiously.

"Very much so," Jarvis confirmed.

"I… thanks," she replied, her cheeks coloring slightly as she pushed herself off the couch collecting the wet towels and laundry.

"I am very protective of Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts interests," Jarvis admitted. "I derive a great deal of pleasure from knowing that they are as well cared for as I can make them. You've made that goal much easier over the last week."

"Ms. Potts said you were family," Bryn admitted, dumping everything into the dumbwaiter and pressing the button. "You feel the same way about them, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Jarvis confirmed.

"How long have you been working for Mr. Stark?" she asked curiously, picking up the flip-flops she'd left on the table and jamming her feet into them.

"All my life," he answered. Bryn gave an amused chuckle.

"Yeah, I get that," she nodded, running her fingers through her fly-away hair, smoothing it down. "I'm sorry I was too nervous to think to tell Ms. Potts what a great boss you are. I mean, she said the job wasn't glamorous and she's right. But you've made it good, so thanks."

"Thank you, Bryn," Jarvis answered, sounding flattered.

"I'm going to take one of those mandatory breaks and grab a coffee from the cafe," she declared, heading for the door. "You want me to get you anything from there?"

"No," Jarvis said in a voice that seemed almost exasperated. "But I'll need to add to your bakery order while you're out. Captain Rogers, apparently, is in need of an afternoon snack as well." Bryn stifled a giggle behind her hand.

"Okay, be right back," she called. slipping out the door. She tugged Ms. Potts business card from the pocket of her track pants as she shuffled down the hall. There was an email address at the bottom. Maybe she could give Jarvis a more sterling review if she didn't have to say it out loud.


	3. Day: 9 - July 8, 2011

**Day: 9 - July 8, 2011**

"No, no, no."

Bryn stepped off her bike while it was still rolling down the ramp into the private parking garage, a cautious frown on her face at the sound of the woman's voice. She passed the Audi and the Bugatti as if she couldn't see them, her attention focused on the figure in black whose deep red curls were just visible around the key locker by the elevator that held spare keys for all of Mr. Stark's cars.

"I'm afraid the only other option is the Captain's motorcycle," Jarvis supplied, his tone was thin and a bit dry, with a hint of aggravation Bryn wasn't accustomed to hearing from him.

"Well I can't take the Harley either, half the country's seen him riding the damn thing." The woman countered in frustration. "This is a nightmare from hell! Doesn't Stark have a single car that doesn't scream 'rich asshole'?"

"Sir has twice had that exact term on his vanity plate," Jarvis deadpanned in reply. The woman let out an irritated groan but it was not loud enough to mask the giggle Bryn tried to hide behind her hand. The redhead leaned back from the key locker with narrowed eyes and Bryn stopped short, meeting her gaze with a fair amount of caution.

"My apologies Agent Romanov," Jarvis declared with a sigh. "This is our courier, Ms. Bryn Marshall. Bryn, Agent Natasha Romanov is a… friend of Ms. Potts." Bryn's brow furrowed.

"Oh my gosh," she whispered. "You're,"

"Don't say it," Romanov interrupted warningly. Bryn held up both hands without thinking, nearly toppling her bike as she let go of it. She quickly made a grab for it, continuing along toward the utility doors, keeping one eye on the Agent.

"I didn't see _anything_," Bryn declared firmly. "Nobody here." Natasha's eyes narrowed as Bryn passed.

"Hey Marshall," Natasha called after her. Bryn paused, turning back cautiously as Natasha sized her up and down a long moment.

"Jarvis, the kid's got security clearance, right?" Natasha asked finally.

"I wouldn't trust just anyone with Mr. Stark's bagels," Jarvis confirmed.

"Fair enough," Natasha nodded, crossing the garage with slow meticulous steps, her arms folded over her chest. Her expression was shrewd and calculating as she watched Bryn who was trying very hard not to look intimidated.

"I don't bite, Marshall," Romanov stated finally, the hint of a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

"That's not the impression your name gives," Bryn admitted, pulling a face once she realized what she'd just said. Natasha's narrowed eyes softened as Bryn shuffled on her feet, looking for all the work as of she were a deer about to make a break for cover.

"I've got a problem," Natasha stated, her shoulders arching under her black silk tank top in the slightest shrug. "I can't tell you exactly what it is, but I need to make a little trip out. Nobody's supposed to know I'm here, so I can't be seen leaving."

"You're kind of in the wrong garage," Bryn pointed out.

"I believe Agent Romanov has picked up on that," Jarvis sighed in exasperation. Natasha did smile properly then, shaking her head.

"Do you know anyone at SI we can steal or borrow a car from?" She asked bluntly. "something middle class and not too obvious?"

"Well," Bryn waffled a moment, glancing up at the ceiling. "If Jarvis doesn't mind you borrowing off of Mr. Stark he's probably okay with you borrowing my bike."

"The Lynskey's a little too middle class," Natasha observed, eyeing the bicycle.

"Oh, this is just for short trips," Bryn blushed. "Jarvis?"

"I've no objection," Jarvis stated as the utility door began to roll up. "I would have suggested it before but I felt it did not meet her requirements either."

"Cherry little ride, Marshall," Natasha declared as the motorbike came into view. Bryn rolled her bicycle in beside it, opening the dumbwaiter on reflex and unloading her bags. "But Jarvis is right, it's still a bit flashy."

"Well, yeah it is," Bryn stated, tugging off her bike helmet and opening her locker. "But people see me rolling in and out of here a half dozen times a day. If you took my jacket and helmet they probably wouldn't look close enough to notice that you're not me." She pulled the denim jacket from its hook and held it out to Natasha. The redhead stared back at her blankly a moment.

"I mean, it'll be a bit big on you," Bryn admitted, her cheeks coloring. "And it's not exactly stylish,"

"No," Natasha corrected, taking the jacket and shrugging into it with a sharp nod. "I can make it work. You sure you don't mind?" For the first time she looked at Bryn properly as if she were seeing her rather than assessing her and Bryn offered a half smile back, reaching for the helmet hanging on the wall.

"I had friends in midtown," Bryn offered by way of explanation, passing it to her. "On the day of the attack. One of them said this really pretty redhead covered her and her coworkers so they could get off the street and into the subway."

"Always with the pretty," Natasha observed wryly, digging Bryn's gloves out of the helmet and pulling them on.

"Honestly I'm surprised she noticed that you're anything but terrifying," Bryn admitted. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes growing wide as Natasha laughed.

"I am so sorry," Bryn lamented. "I have no filters when I'm nervous."

"You don't need to be nervous around me, kid," Natasha advised in amusement, tucking her hair up under Bryn's helmet. "This; You're doing my friend, my best friend, a real solid."

"Well, you did the same for mine," Bryn shrugged, her cheeks coloring. Natasha nodded, swinging her leg over the bike and and revving it to life before easing down the short ramp.

"Hey Marshall," Natasha called over her shoulder. "I owe you one." Bryn watched her drive down the long row of sports cars as the storage door slowly closed.

"Oh my god! Black Widow!" Bryn squealed, hopping up and down on her toes. "That is so _awesome_!" She let out a happy squeaking sound, flapping her hands in front of her as she grinned. Her expression faltered almost instantly.

"Jarvis, you didn't see that did you?" she asked in embarrassment.

"I didn't see _anything_," he answered drily. Bryn made a face. "In your defense, she does have that affect on people."

"She's so cool," Bryn declared staring at the closed door for a long moment. "She… Is she hiding here from something?"

"It would be more accurate to say that she is hiding _someone_ here," Jarvis replied. "They arrived earlier this evening. SHIELD is still unaware that anyone but Dr. Banner is currently residing in the tower."

"If they're keeping an eye on him, they're not going to notice everyone else?" Bryn asked, a hint of worry in her tone.

"It is a bit of a dance on a wire," Jarvis admitted. "The residential floors are shielded from all known forms of surveillance, but they are able to detect Dr. Banner's gamma signature regardless of his location. They are also visually monitoring his lab from one of the nearby buildings as well as all of the exits. I believe you are correct in that we cannot maintain the farce for very much longer."

"Seems like poor payback for saving the world," Bryn remarked.

"I whole heartedly agree," Jarvis confirmed. His voice softened and Bryn glanced up at the affection in his tone. "Thank you for assisting Agent Romanov. I consider her a friend."

"Well I consider her a hero," she shrugged smiling as she pulled her bag from her locker. "They did a lot for all of us, New York might not even be here any more if it weren't for the Avengers. I keep seeing all this stuff on the news, people blaming them, politicians wanting Mr. Stark to pay for the damages. Almost no one talks about the six youth facilities the Maria Stark foundation has been rebuilding this month or all of the repair work SI's construction crews have been doing on Grand Central while they've been putting Stark Tower back together. If all I can do to repay them is pick up lunch meat from the deli then I'm happy to do it."

"I certainly haven't known all of them for long," Jarvis admitted. "But as I have come to know them better, I believe they are all good people who have done the best they can to save lives."

"That's good to know," Bryn nodded, shouldering her bag. "If that's it, I'm going to call it a night."

"Thank you for your assistance, today, Ms. Marshall," Jarvis replied as she reached for the door handle. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you, Jarvis!" she called as the door closed behind her.


	4. Day: 20- July 22, 2011

**Day: 20- July 22, 2011**

It didn't really help that she saw the taxi about to swerve.

Well, maybe it helped a little, Bryn had just enough time to jam down on the left pedal and pull her foot off of the right one before the taxi clipped her rear tire. She let out a frightened yelp, tucking her arms and legs as the bicycle bounced off the light pole on the corner like a badly thrown dodge ball. The bike seemed to hang in the air for a span of seconds and then the pavement was rushing toward her as she clamped her eyes shut.

"Hey! buddy! Who do ya think ya are?" A male voice shouted after the driver from very close to Bryn's ear. it was another moment before she realized that the solid mass digging into her ribs was, in fact, not the twisted remains of her bicycle.

You okay, miss?" the owner of the arm that had caught her asked. Bryn pulled her feet under her with a shaky breath, her fingers clutching reflexively at the sleeve of the man's shirt as she wobbled. She nodded mutely, her limbs shaking with unspent adrenaline as she inspected them as if to assure herself they were all still properly attached.

"Yeah," she breathed out as the man steadied her, taking a step back. "Yeah I think I'm okay." She looked down at her feet and let out a groan.

"Damn it!" she swore, her voice descending into a pitiful whine. "my bike!"

"Yeah it was a nice one too," her rescuer remarked, nudging the bent tire with the toe of his running shoes. The bike was a mess, the rear tire was twisted up like a taco shell, the front one sported a sizable dent in the rim. The chain dangled uselessly from the gears, and a large crack was visible in one of the saddlebag bins, undoubtedly where the taxi had hit her. Bryn bit her lip, blinking back tears that she hastily brushed away with her arm.

"Are you sure you're alright?" the good samaritan asked, concern in his tone.

"Yeah," she sniffed. "It's my company bike. And I just started my job, too. I don't know what my boss is going to say." Her stomach pitched, a heavy weight sinking slowly from her chest to fill it with dread. She hadn't been at this job a month and already she'd flattened company equipment, very expensive company equipment. She flipped open the saddle bags, struggling with the latch on the broken one. the deli containers inside didn't appear to be damaged and she sighed, gathering them up. She'd have to take the groceries in and then come back for the bike.

"Well I hope he says he's glad you didn't get killed by a taxi," the man stated, a frown furrowing his brow. "Where do you work?"

"S.I." Bryn answered forlornly, shuffling her grip on the grocery bags and looking up at Stark Tower. "At least for now."

"Well I'll help you cary the bike then," he offered, crouching down to grasp hold of the frame, his muscled arms rippling under his tight t-shirt.

"Oh, you don't have to," Bryn began as he straightened, hoisting the bike up onto his shoulder.

"It's only across the street," he insisted, turning to her with a shy smile. He was pretty, in an old fashioned sort of way with his close cropped blond hair peeking out beneath his ball cap and his ernest bright blue eyes. He was tall, really tall, and the muscles of his broad chest barely flexed under the weight of the bicycle. "I'm heading that way anyway."

"The garage entrance," Bryn sighed with a hint of resignation as she nodded down the street. They hurried across traffic before the light could change again, the bike's front tire flapping uselessly behind them as they turned down the street in front of the cafe. Bryn glanced up at him as they walked his t-shirt and jeans were smudged with dirt but still looked fairly new. There was a scratch along one arm and his sneakers were covered in dust.

"You work in construction?" She asked curiously. He blushed, throwing her a soft smile.

"I've been helping with the cleanup in my off hours," he shrugged. "A lot of the small businesses are having a rough time rebuilding." She couldn't help but smile at that. He seemed almost embarrassed at being caught helping out.

"Yeah," She nodded. "I notice that running up and down the streets every day. The debris is cleaned up and most of the big buildings are under repair, but it seems like the little guys are having a tough time picking up the pieces."

"A… friend of mine runs a charity that's helping with the rebuild," he nodded. "So for me it's kind of great, if I'm out helping and I meet someone who clearly really needs a hand I can always tell him and it's like the next day and they have what they need. It makes me feel good, seeing people come together like that."

"Things in this part of town sure have been different," she admitted grinning up at him brightly. "before the attack I'd have never expected anyone to offer to cary my bike home."

"My mother raised me better than that," he admitted, a bright flush coloring his cheeks. Bryn let out a soft laugh. She turned to see the entrance to the parking garage and her stomach twisted up in fresh knots.

"This way," she nodded, leading him down the ramp.

"Thanks," she offered as the private grange door rattled open and they headed past the row of sports cars. "I really do appreciate the help. I have no idea how I would have wrestled it across the street on my own."

"Bryn, my goodness, what happened?" Jarvis' startled voice over the garage speakers made her shoulders tense and she winced.

"She's okay, Jarvis," her good samaritan replied, easing the bike down to the pavement. "A taxi driver knocked her into a pole. Messed up her bike pretty good but she isn't injured." Bryn stared at him, mouth agape.

"That's certainly a relief," Jarvis remarked. "The bike looks awful, Captain."

"Well the headlight and the back tire are goners," He observed, studying the bike with a calculating eye. "So's the one saddle bag. The chain's bent and the shift's broken. I'm pretty sure the brakes will need to be replaced too. But the frame hardly has a scratch so it's fixable. If you want to tell me where Tony keeps his tools I'd be happy to get started on it."

"Unnecessary, Captain," Jarvis assured. "I am already ordering a suitable replacement."

"Captain?" Bryn squeaked out.

"Are you sure?" he asked with a frown, lifting his ball cap to drag his nails over his scalp. "Seems kind of a waste."

"There is a youth bicycle program in Brooklyn that the Maria Stark foundation supports," Jarvis replied. "I'm sure one of the children would be overjoyed to restore it to working condition."

"Fair enough," he nodded with a pleased expression.

"Captain?" Bryn declared, wide eyed. "Captain _America_?"

"Steve," he said blushing. "It's… you can call me Steve."

"Captain America just rescued me from a taxi," Bryn declared, her face screwed up in a dazed, shocked expression.

"Bryn are you quite certain you're entirely all right?" Jarvis asked. "You seem a bit unsteady. Did you sustain a head injury of any kind?"

"No I…" her voice trailed off and she paused, staring at Steve with her mouth drawn up like a carp. She let out a tiny whining sound. "Captain America rescued me and I can't even _tell_ anyone!" Steve's ears and neck turned bright red.

"As per your nondisclosure agreement," Jarvis confirmed. "Bryn I believe I would feel better if our in-office medical staff gave you a check up just to be safe. I will call up to forty and make an appointment for you."

"I didn't even hit the ground," she shook her head. blinking up at the ceiling. "I… you're not mad about the bike?"

"It's hardly your fault that someone hit you," Jarvis pointed out.

"They didn't even stop," Steve declared sourly.

"I'll be sure to go over the building's security footage and see if I can find something suitable to submit to the police," Jarvis huffed out angrily.

"You're really not upset about the bike?" she asked worriedly.

"A bicycle can be replaced," Jarvis reminded, his tone less harsh. "people cannot. Captain are you quite certain she was not injured?"

"I don't think I grabbed her too roughly," Steve replied, giving her an apologetic smile. "I tried to be careful. Your ribs don't hurt, do they?" Bryn ran her hands down her sides on reflex where she could still feel the fading warmth of Captain America's arm around her. She shook her head, her lip trembling as her eyes watered.

"Bryn?" Jarvis asked, alarmed.

"I think it's probably just shock," Steve declared, propping the heap of the bike against the garage wall and taking Bryn's arm to steady her. "It could have been a lot worse. She should sit down and rest for a while." the storage door at the end of the garage rolled up and Steve Rogers planted a hand on her back, steering her into the small office and onto the sofa.

"Water?" Steve asked, looking up at the ceiling.

"There are several bottles in the mini fridge under the counter," Jarvis replied and Steve hurried to open it, pulling a bottle out and cracking the cap before handing it to Bryn.

"Give yourself a minute," he advised, crouching in front of her as she forced down a swallow. "and once you're steady again I think maybe Jarvis is right and you should have a doctor check you over. I, well, I was on a mission once and one of my men fell off a wall and I caught him, broke three of his ribs. I don't know my own strength sometimes."

"I don't hurt anywhere," Bryn insisted, her skin felt too tight and she made a fist with one hand, flexing and releasing it as if she could stretch it to fit. "If you hadn't caught me it could have been really bad."

"I'm glad I caught you then," Steve gave her warm smile, a soft blush coloring his cheeks.

"You are absolutely adorable, how are you even real?" Bryn asked, she pulled a face almost immediately. "I'm going to pretend I hit my head. Can we pretend I hit my head?" Steve let out a laugh.

"I'm not entirely certain you didn't," Jarvis stated drily. "If you're feeling well enough, the SI employee clinic is expecting you."

"Yeah, okay," Bryn relented, her own face turning a delicate pink as she eased off the couch.

"I'll walk you up," Steve offered. "I was on my way home anyway."

"Do not return without a clean bill of health," Jarvis insisted firmly after them as Steve opened the door for her and they headed out into the corridor.

"So you're in hiding but you just parade around Stark tower like you own the place?" Bryn asked as they climbed the stairs to the lobby level.

"Well _I_ don't," Steve shrugged, pulling his ball cap down over his eyes and hunching his shoulders slightly. "But Rodger Stevens does." He dug in the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out an SI security badge, his picture and the name Stevens, Rodger F. emblazoned on the front.

"That is the lamest fake name ever!" Bryn hissed out, barely able to contain her glee as they crossed the lobby.

"Nobody's going to suspect anything so obvious," Steve answered, shrugging. "I keep my head down going in and out of the building because of the… Stark called it 'face recognition software'. Anyway, as far as anyone knows I'm nobody."

"So what do you do here at SI Mr. Stevens?" Bryn questioned with exaggerated politeness as they boarded the lift, moving around a group of researchers and executives leaving for the day.

"I'm an artistic consultant for product advertising," Steve declared, barely keeping a straight face as the doors closed. He blew out a breath, tugging off his ball cap and running his fingers through his hair.

"Do you even know what that is?" She asked in wonder. "Because I don't even know what that is and I have a business degree."

"Haven't the foggiest," Steve admitted, grinning. "But apparently it has something to do with the fact that I keep telling Stark his commercials and magazine ads are visually offensive. I think he meant it as a joke."

"They're selling the new Stark phones faster than they can make them," she pointed out.

"It has to be entirely on product merit," Steve insisted, shaking his head. "Because that _thing_ they ran in the Times was awful." Bryn let out a laugh as the doors opened on forty.

"This is me, thanks for all the help, Rodger, see you around!"

"Yeah," Steve faltered a moment before giving her a nervous half wave. "See you!" The elevator doors closed on him and Bryn covered her mouth to muffle her laugh as she turned down the corridor toward the employee clinic. She'd only made it a half dozen steps before she stopped.

"I think I was just flirting with Captain America," she whispered half under her breath. She caught herself instantly, covering her mouth and she looked around wide eyed but the corridor was empty. She let out a sigh of relief, heading down the hall once more.

* * *

Recycle-A-Bicycle is a lovely program in Queens, Brooklyn, and the East Village that teaches young people how to repair bicycles and allows them to earn one for themselves by restoring donated bikes for the less fortunate and for resale in the program's bike shop. If you're in the New York area and looking for a bike, or if you have a bike that's at the end of its life, I'd like to encourage you to support them. If you are not in the New York area I hope you'll look for similar programs in your own neighborhood.


	5. Day: 37 - August 16, 2011

**Day: 37 - August 16, 2011**

Bryn looked up from her book with a wince at the grinding sound that pierced through the storage door, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end not for the first time that afternoon. Her mouth twisted up in a sour pucker as her eyes narrowed.

"Jarvis are you sure you don't have somewhere for me to be?" she half shouted over the din.

"Not at the moment, Ms. Marshall," he answered smoothly, seemingly unaware of the earsplitting shrill of screeching metal. "If you would like, you are welcome to take advantage of the game room or the gym on the company recreation floors. I would not mind calling your cell phone."

"I might do that," she admitted loudly. The howl of power tools abruptly stopped and she bit back the shout, letting out a sigh. "Thanks." Bryn closed her book, pushing herself off the couch and heading for the hall door. Half way there the spine contorting sound of metal striking metal beat out a steady rhythm and she stiffened, throwing a dark glare over her shoulder at the storage door that was now rattling softly in time to the tempo. A moment later she was spinning on her heel, her hand slapping against the storage door button as she marched down the ramp toward the garage.

She ducked under the door before it could completely retract, her narrowed eyes zoning in on the furthest corner of Tony Stark's private garage and the rusted hulking Chevrolet tucked in the corner, its faded orange paint job looking even more garish against the pristine row of shiny, perfect collectors cars. Bryn put her hands over her ears. Out here the sound was even more deafening and she crossed the garage with purposeful steps. As she rounded the Jaguar the pounding abruptly stopped.

It was almost dark at the far end of the garage. The Chevy, parked in a spot adjacent to the rows of steel tool chests that lined the wall, was bathed in a single circle of bright light from an overhead work lamp. Wrenches, hammers, and power tools litter the floor for yards around and the hood was upturned in the middle of the floor, looking like a misshapen saucer sled.

Bryn's steps stilled as she caught sight of a shock of light brown hair. The man was hunched against the car, his forehead pressed to his lean, muscular arms, folded on the roof. His t-shirt clung to his skin, outline his ribs, hitching up over the waist of his jeans to reveal a thin strip of skin. But it was the defeated slump of his shoulders more than the way he filled out his Levies that caught her attention. Bryn wasn't sure she'd ever seen a more miserable human being in her life.

"Come on, Baby," the man whispered softly. "Don't fight me, I haven't got the energy any more."

"Excuse me?" Bryn's tentative voice felt loud in the sudden quite of the garage and she almost jumped. The man was clearly much less easily startled. He glanced back at her only a moment but it was long enough for her to catch the shine of unshed tears in his eyes. He cleared his throat, his shoulders easing back.

"Sorry," he managed to get out without sounding too gruff. "I didn't realize anyone else was down here."

"My office is at the other end of the garage," Bryn supplied, pointing back the way she'd come as she approached hesitantly. "I'm the courier."

"Oh, yeah right," he answered in a tone that indicated he had no idea what she meant. He reached for a wrench, moving to lean over the engine.

"I'm Bryn," she declared, holding out her hand hesitantly.

"Clint," he nodded, grasping her hand swiftly and returning his attention to the car. "Look, um, what are you usual hours?"

"Eleven to seven Monday through Friday," She answered.

"Well, I'll try not to be a total asshole and save the noise for when you're not here," He offered, loosening the bolt on the alternator. "No promises though, I'm a natural born asshole." Bryn tried not to smile.

"I'm not usually here a lot, today's just slow," she admitted, hunkering down to straddle the plastic cooler near the bumper. "Are… are you okay?" Clint looked at her with narrowed eyes for a long moment before letting out a thin, empty chuckle.

"Not really," he admitted, returning to his tinkering. "But I probably will be eventually. I usually am."

"Well if this is your idea of therapy, you're probably right about that," Bryn allowed. Clint shot her a look and she blushed. "I just meant, well, it's a good way of dealing with stress, finding something positive to focus on." Clint stared at the wrench he was holding, his entire body going still in a strange way that seemed almost relaxed.

"I'm going to need more cars," he stated finally, setting it aside with a sigh.

"That bad, huh?" she asked, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them as she hooked the heels of her shoes on the edge of the cooler. Clint took a deep breath, his fingers curling tight around the frame of the Chevy until every muscle in his arms flexed.

"I lost my best friend," he admitted, his voice hardly wavering as he leaned on his palms. "It was kind of my fault."

"You didn't get to him in time?" She asked sadly. Clint's expression took on an air of suspicion and she ducked her head in embarrassment.

"You're in Tony Stark's private garage making a mess with his tools," she pointed out sheepishly. "I figure any friend of Mr. Stark's." she shrugged, her cheeks coloring.

"Could be I'm restoring this thing for him," Clint replied.

"The Impala is totally not his style," Bryn shook her head. "And his personal mechanic was here last week changing the oil on the Rolls. You don't look anything like her." Clint laughed, a smile that was almost genuine lighting up his face.

"I was responsible for the situation that got him killed," Clint admitted, his expression growing once more serious. "All the times he had my back and I just…" His voice trailed off and he picked up the wrench again, setting back to work. Bryn opened her mouth to say something and then seemed to think better of it.

"It's not a very pretty car," she observed finally. Clint gaped at her with a repulsed expression that made her giggle.

"Don't you listen to the naive teenager, Baby," Clint crooned, stroking the car. "She doesn't know a classic when she sees one."

"I'm twenty-one," Bryn declared, her face flushing at her obviously juvenile counter-argument.

"I jump off of buildings to that people like you can drink and vote?" Clint demanded, looking shocked. Bryn only shrugged. "What is this world coming to?" He turned back to the car and Bryn watched him in silence for a minute while he tinkered.

"Is there a story behind it?" she asked finally, tilting her head in the direction of the car.

"A long story," Clint nodded. "A very long story of pizza and beer and binge-watching. We used to get together after missions. All three of us, me and Nat and…" His voice broke off in a choked sound and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I can't say his name," Clint admitted, clearing his throat. "I don't even know why. It's been three months and I can't."

"It's more real when you say it," Bryn stated knowingly, letting her chin rest on her knees.

"Yeah," Clint nodded as if the words were a revelation.

"I lost my mom a few years back," She offered with a half shrug. "And for the longest time I wouldn't talk about her. I thought about her all the time, I just didn't…" She gave Clint a guilty smile.

"I got the words out once and it got better after that," She explained. "It just took a while to get to that point." Clint nodded in understanding, offering her a smile that was just a touch grateful. Her phone beeped and she fished it from her pocket.

"Jarvis wants me to run to the deli," She declared, letting her feet slide to the floor. "You want me to grab you anything while I'm out?" Clint looked at her carefully a moment.

"Pastrami on rye?" he asked hesitantly. Bryn let out a laugh.

"I can manage that," she nodded, pushing off the cooler and heading back toward her office, glancing over her shoulder. "You need me to refill your beer stash?" Clint opened the lid of the cooler she'd been sitting on.

"Nope, I'm good," he replied, his smile more real this time. Bryn gave him a thumbs up. She walked a few more paces before turning around.

"Hey, Clint?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He stared at her in silence for a long moment, his wrench still clutched in his hand.

"For what?" he finally asked. Bryn rolled her eyes in condescension.

"For saving New York," she replied. She thought about her answer a moment, then added. "And the world. But mostly New York. I like New York." Clint's expression went soft and she smiled back at him before turning and heading up the ramp.

"I'm going to grab Clint a pastrami while I'm out," she declared, checking the list on the computer screen before opening her locker and fishing out her jacket. "Is there anything else I could get him… to, cheer him up?"

"I can't say," Jarvis admitted. his tone verging on forlorn. "Since he's come here he's been closed off and withdrawn. I have found that small, familiar comforts often go a long way toward improving someone's state of mind, but he asks for nothing and accepts whatever is provided. I believe Agent Romanov is deeply worried over him. The fact that you could get him to offer a preference for a sandwich is quite an achievement."

"Pastrami should never be an achievement, Jarvis," Bryn insisted, reaching for her helmet. She held it in her hands a moment, shifting awkwardly. "Jarvis, what happened to him? I know he lost his friend, but thats… Something else happened, didn't it?"

"I feel it would be ill practice to gossip about Agent Barton," Jarvis admitted. "However, there is some data that has been made public by less than scrupulous sources. Perhaps you encountered it on the internet?" Bryn thought a moment, biting her lip.

"That story that was going around," She said softly. "About someone inside SHIELD assisting with the invasion. That was Clint?"

"Bryn, I want you to know that the press release refuting that claim was completely accurate," Jarvis stated in a firm tone. "Agent Barton was captured and placed under a form of alien mind control. It was reprehensible that that information was released at all, much less about someone who is still in recovery from the most brutal kind of torture." Bryn stared down the ramp and across the garage to where Clint was hunched over the engine of the Impala, the muscles in his back whipcord tight beneath his shirt. She looked at him closer this time. He'd lost weight recently, and rather quickly by the looks of it, his ribs sticking out just this side of too much, his skin the wane color of summer tan fading to winter pallor. The muscles in his shoulders bunched uncomfortably as he moved, jerky and tense as if he were holding himself back from striking out to defend himself.

"He must feel awful," she whispered, blinking rapidly. "He doesn't even have his best friend to be there for him."

"I have never been very good at addressing emotional trauma," Jarvis admitted. "There are too many cues I simply seem unable to pick up on. I have always tried to compensate for that shortcoming by being considerate, but I have been at a loss with Agent Barton. I have no idea how to help him and I don't know him well enough to even begin to guess what he might need."

"Have you tried being friendly?" Bryn suggested hesitantly.

"I regret I do not have your natural charm, Ms. Marshall," Jarvis admitted in amusement as she tugged her helmet on to hide her blush. "My interactions with people tend toward the stilted."

"I don't know," She shrugged, lifting her keys from the wall hook. "You do okay. I'll be back in a bit." She swung her leg over the motorbike and revved it to life, rolling down the ramp. She chanced a glance in Clint's direction as she sped past the row of sports cars. He was sitting on the cooler where she had been only minutes ago, a beer dangling from his fingertips as he stared at the floor.

Pastrami. And maybe some of those hand cut potato chips from the sandwich cart down the street.


	6. Day: 51 - September 5, 2011

**Day: 51 - September 5, 2011**

"So let me get this straight," Bryn declared, holding out the paper coffee cup with a skeptical frown. "You and Mr. Stark built a decoy 'you' out of a holo-projector a roomba and a can of radiation?"

"That sums it up," Bruce Banner nodded thoughtfully, sinking back into Bryn's sofa, his fingers toying idly with the tea bag string that dangled over the lip of the cup.

"And that's working?" she asked skeptically, snapping the small k-cup machine shut and punching the button.

"Seems to be," Bruce confirmed. "Their scanning equipment shouldn't be able to pick up anything down here, Tony reinforced the garage for use as a bunker. As long as they don't detect the subtle difference in the gamma signature of the radioisotope container we stuck to the top of the roomba, they should think the decoy is me."

"I'd like at this point to remind you," Jarvis declared, his tone holding the dry edge of someone far past their patience with politics, small children or mad scientists. "That I did point out to Mr. Stark and yourself what an abysmally low chance of success this particular plan has."

"You're not wrong," Bruce admitted. "We're sort of banking on the fact that Fury wants the Avengers more than he wants control of the situation."

"I'm afraid I'm not in a position to speculate on those odds," Jarvis admitted irritably.

"Honestly I don't think any of us are," Bruce sighed, losing himself in thought as he stared into his cup. "We're just going to have to hope that Steve can keep Tony from completely pissing off the director and that the decoy works."

"But it's _right now_ leaking radiation all over your lab?" Bryn questioned, plopping down in the chair at the table with her coffee to study him with a frown. Bruce gave an acknowledging tilt of his head, taking an experimental sip of his tea. "You chemistry guys are nuts, you know that? I roomed with a pharmacy major and she whined about getting radiation on her shoes like it was gum or something. How are you not all dead from cancer?"

"I turn into a giant green monster," Bruce pointed out placidly.

"I'm going to shut up now," Bryn decided. Bruce let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. Bryn watched him from beneath her lashes as he drew in a slow breath, his eyes slipping shut. When Jarvis had explained Mr. Stark's plan she hadn't really thought about what it would be like to have a stranger sharing the space she'd come to think of as hers in the last three months. Dr. Banner was serenely calm and composed in a way that was very nearly unsettling and Bryn was honestly having a hard time imagining the rumpled academic on her couch tearing through brick walls with his bare fists.

"It's not a lot of radiation." Bruce declared when he finally opened his eyes.

"Excuse me?" Bryn blinked at him.

"The container in the lab," he amended. "And me, I'm not giving off that much radiation. Not enough to be dangerous. You encounter radiation in various forms every day, from natural sources, it's not dangerous until it reaches a certain level of exposure."

"I really wasn't worried…" Bryn's voice trailed off and she blushed. "I mean, you live here, if you were dangerous I'm pretty sure Ms. Potts would have something to say about it."

"The fact that I'm not irradiating the entire building doesn't make me safe," Bruce informed with a sad sort of smile. He looked back at her a long moment and Bryn was struck by how truly fragile he looked, his soft hands curled around his paper cup and his brown curls nearly falling in his eyes. He drew in a breath, squaring his shoulders and the moment passed. "My cells act as a kind of buffer, a radiation shield, we don't really know how. But whatever the accident did to me, it's actively preventing the radiation from breaking containment."

"What about when you?" Bryn flapped a hand at him, looking flustered for a moment. "You know what? I, probably shouldn't be allowed to talk to superheroes, because I just say something stupid." Bruce let out a bark of a laugh, his eyes alight as he covered his mouth with his hand."

"That's good," he chuckled, shaking his head. "That's excellent. Superhero." He drew in a deep breath, a wrong footed expression on his face as he stared into his cup.

"Help me out here, Jarvis," Bryn declared, gazing up at the ceiling with a perplexed frown.

"Dr. Banner and I have engaged in a lengthy and ongoing debate as to whether or not his contributions can be categorized as heroic or destructive," Jarvis answered with a huff of frustration. "Thus far I have not won."

"You'd think hanging around Tony, he'd be used to that by now," Bruce observed, his eyes twinkling as he sipped his tea.

"My grandfather used to say that for thousands of years humans just accepted that they couldn't hang on to things," Bryn stated, staring into her coffee cup. "We built our homes on flood plains and in the shadows of volcanos and near battle fields. And when villages were inevitably destroyed by fire and war and pestilence we'd just rebuild. We'd make better bricks, safer roofs, we learned from what worked and what didn't and we made it better."

"I suppose that's true," Bruce allowed his expression curious.

"And then the industrial revolution came," Bryn pulled one foot up on the front of her chair, resting her chin on her knee. "And we started valuing things more than people, we started resisting rebuilding, we hung onto buildings until they were to the point of decay. We tried to stick them back together rather than start over and make them better. He said that the more we valued things, the less we valued that sense of purpose and innovation the constant threat of peril gave us."

"He sounds like an academic," Bruce observed, sipping his tea.

"He was a professor of philosophy," Bryn shrugged. "I don't know, I always thought he was a little crazy because a lot of people died in disasters. But maybe you're a little like that."

"Like Mount Vesuvius?" Bruce asked teasingly.

"I was thinking more like the Yellow River," Bryn admitted, blushing. "It's terrible and deadly when it jumps its banks, but so much grows there, food to feed thousands. That's not all bad."

"I've seen the Yellow River," Bruce remarked, his eyes going soft as if he could see something she couldn't but wherever he'd gone inside his head he clearly wasn't pressed for company.

"Mr. Stark has asked that I let you know that he and the Captain are about to, in his words 'engage the target', Dr. Banner," Jarvis stated blandly, breaking the spell of the moment. The smallest smile curled Bruce's lips and he settled farther back into the sofa with a sigh.

"Thank you, Jarvis," Bruce declared. He closed his eyes, drawing in a steadying breath, his entire body easing into the exhale.

"Are you worried?" Bryn asked, tugging her lip between her teeth as he opened his eyes.

"A little," Bruce admitted thoughtfully. "I suppose I've gotten used to a roof over my head and another pair of eyes at my back. I'm not quite ready to give that up."

"Well, even if this doesn't work out, I bet Mr. Stark has a plan B," Bryn stated. "He seems like a plan B kind of guy.

"Tony is a plan C though Z kind of guy," Bruce confirmed in fond amusement. "For whatever reason he's decided he wants us here and I'm pretty sure Tony's used to getting what he wants. If he has anything to say about it, I don't think I'll be leaving unless it's what I want."

"Believe me, Doctor, Sir is not the only one delighted at your presence in the Tower," Jarvis insisted. "Ms. Potts and I are supremely relieved to finally have someone with a modicum of sense in Mr. Starks lab on a daily basis."

"Okay, that's downright terrifying," Bruce admitted, looking up at the ceiling with an expression that was properly worried. "She's a smart woman, Jarvis, she knows what I am. I've been waiting around for months for her to say something about the safety of my being here."

"If Ms. Potts has anything to say it's that Stark Industries' legal team is at your disposal, Doctor," Jarvis supplied gently but firmly. "A fact she has relayed to me several times. Rest assured that even if today's meeting does not go as planned, she is fully prepared to insure your security into the future." Bruce froze, staring at the floor with a blank expression. Finally he swallowed, clearing his throat.

"Thanks, Jarvis," he said softly, his voice cracking. He swallowed again, drawing in a shaky breath. "Thank Pepper for me too. That's… it's terribly generous of her."

"You saved Mr. Stark's life, Doctor," Jarvis offered, his own voice softening. "That is not something we can actually repay you for." Bryn ducked her head to hide her smile as Bruce's face flushed.

"So what's going to happen if Mr. Stark's meeting goes well?" She asked curiously before the silence could become uncomfortable.

"Well, ideally the Avengers will become a recognized unit of a government agency," Bruce replied. "We'll all officially be working for SHIELD, which will mean that it will be harder for other agencies to give us trouble. From a practical standpoint we won't have to sneak in and out of the tower any more, at least not as much. I'm not sure I'll ever feel comfortable being out in public alone but in theory I'd be allowed that much freedom."

"No more fake ID badges or waiting until dark to go out?" Bryn asked. Bruce nodded. "You're going to go from fugitive to household name over night." Bruce froze, staring at his cup with ever widening eyes.

"We had avoided pointing that out to the Doctor for a reason, Bryn," Jarvis stated in mild irritation.

"Sorry," squeaked out. "You're not going to freak out, are you? Please don't freak out. Mr. Stark will fire me if I damage you."

"I'm fine," Bruce declared softly, closing his eyes slowly as he drew in long, even breaths. "I hadn't even thought about it. All the media clamor. The moment the Avengers become official… my god, it'll be a circus."

"Ms Potts has been putting together a marketing plan for some time now," Jarvis advised. "If it is any comfort at all, your participation has been limited to magazine interviews to be conducted here in the tower."

"That helps a little, yeah," Bruce nodded.

"If you make Natasha do talk shows, she's going to be pissed," Bryn observed.

"That fact had already been anticipated," Jarvis admitted. "Which is why Mr. Stark and the Captain are tentatively scheduled to appear on the Tonight Show."

"Oh, I have to DVR that!" Bryn exclaimed excitedly, pulling out her phone. "That is like the best news on TV since Catherine Tate came back to Doctor Who!"

"She was one of my favorites as well," Jarvis agreed, Bryn only grinned, blushing.

"Guess I'm definitely not going out alone," Bruce stated with a sigh.

"Hey, if it's any consolation, creepy super secret government organizations tend to have a hard time disappearing celebrities," Bryn pointed out.

"SHIELD is a creepy super secret government organization," Bruce stated. Bryn made a thoughtful face.

"Hadn't really considered that," she admitted.

"Doctor Banner," Jarvis interrupted. "I'm pleased to inform you that you can now dispense with concealing yourself in the basement. Or anywhere else for that matter."

"Oh dear god," Bruce sighed in visible relief.

"So the Avengers are a thing?" Bryn asked excitedly, a bright smile on her face.

"A thing which I'm afraid you'll need to continue to conceal your connection to, Bryn," Jarvis reminded, though his tone was amused.

"I can totally live with that," She insisted blithely. "But I don't have to call Steve 'Rodger' any more and that is totally awesome."

"I think I'm going up to the gym," Bruce remarked, draining his cup with a smirk. "I could do with some yoga. Thanks for the hospitality."

"Any time," Bryn insisted, taking the cup from him and tossing it in the trash.

"It's nice knowing we have you here," Bruce added as he reached for the doorknob. "It's… like backup."

"I'm pretty sure you have some better backup on your team," Bryn replied, smiling at him.

"You can never have enough backup," Bruce declared. "See you around."

"See you!" she called called after him. Bryn drained her coffee cup, pitching it in the trash, her brow knitting in a thoughtful expression.

"Jarvis?" She called out.

"Yes?"

"Now that the public will know that the Avengers are here, I'm going to have to be more careful, aren't I?" She asked softly.

"I regret there will be some increased risk to your safety, yes," Jarvis admitted.

"It's fine," Bryn stated firmly. "I took a high security clearance job, that implies risk. I was just thinking. I should vary my route more."

"That would be prudent," Jarvis agreed.

"We should maybe switch the times I go out and the locations I pick up from a little too," she added.

"An astute tactical plan," Jarvis confirmed as Bryn slid into the chair at the table, tapping it and bringing up the inset touchscreen keyboard. "Perhaps we should sit down and go over some additional considerations together."

"You're going to have a lot to deal with today," Bryn stated with a frown. "I can manage this."

"I'm sure you can," Jarvis replied. "But I feel I would be ungrateful if I did not assist you."

"I'm pretty good with tactics," Bryn admitted, glancing up at the ceiling. "I play a lot of video games. Evasion, not so much."

"As luck would have it, I excel at evasion and subterfuge," Jarvis declared with a satisfied tone. Bryn's face broke in a grin as she brought up a map of the surrounding bakeries and markets she frequented.

"World of Warcraft?" she asked teasingly.

"Mr. Stark," Jarvis replied. Bryn let out a laugh.

* * *

**Note:**

This chapter runs parallel to the first story in the series: In Which Tony Stark Buys the Avengers.


	7. Day: 67 - September 28, 2011

**Day: 67 - September 28, 2011**

Bryn's bike rolled to a stop in the garage, her attention drawn by the myriad of holograms hanging in the air like fairy lights. She shuffled the paper bag she was holding so that she could unsnap her helmet. She gaped as she slid it off, her eyes sparkling brightly as a virtual hot rod engine disassembled itself in front of her. She reached out with a single finger, tapping the image and an article folded out, offering maintenance instructions and part numbers.

"Jarvis, we're going to need more of that grease solvent," A voice declared from the end of the row of cars and Bryn tucked her helmet under her arm, following the sound.

"Might I remind you, Sir," Jarvis replied, his tone irritated. "That it is neither healthy nor necessary to bathe in Fast Orange."

"Yeah, Yeah," Stark reached out to grab a towel, scrubbing the grime off his hands as he rolled his eyes before hunching back over the engine he was working on. "Cry me a river."

"In this case the river is composed almost entirely of industrial cleaner," Jarvis replied drily. Bryn pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"Where's the fedex guy with the spark plugs I ordered?" Stark demanded, frustration in his voice. "And where the hell is my shawarma?"

Bryn shifted on her feet, holding out the brown paper sack in her hand and giving it a twitch. The soft crinkle of the paper was just enough to raise his attention and Tony Sark lifted his head to stare up at her. His eyebrows did a funny sort of jump, a smarmy smile curling just one corner of his mouth. His gaze finally fell on the bag and his face broke in a proper smile as he took it from her, digging down through the napkins stuffed in the top of the sack.

"Mrs. Farah put falafel in the bottom of the bag for you, fresh out of the fryer," Bryn informed.

"Allah bless her," Tony sighed rooting in the bottom of the bag like a squirrel.

"You're an atheist, Sir," Jarvis reminded. Bryn bit her lip to mask her grin as Tony popped a falafel ball in his mouth, fanning it as it threatened to burn through his tongue.

"Did you tip her?" Stark demanded, swallowing as his eyes watered. Bryn nodded readily. "A real tip, not the twenty-five percent you normally give people because you're not drawing attention to yourself."

"I made sure Mrs. Farah was properly reimbursed," Jarvis insisted. Stark nodded, seeming appeased as he extracted his lunch from the paper bag, sending napkins scattering to the floor.

"So you're Ms. Marshall," Stark observed, peeling back the foil and taking a bite of his pita. Bryn nodded as he licked sauce off of the tip of his thumb before reaching out and tapping the holoscreen hovering over the car.

"Bryn, is that short for something?" He asked.

"Brynhildr," She nodded. "It's Norse."

"How do you spell that?" he asked.

" H," Bryn paused when she realized he was typing it into the screen. "I L D R, um, Mr. Stark?"

"One or two L's?" Tony asked as he typed out Marshall.

"Two," Bryn answered on reflex. She cringed as the results from some sort of proprietary search engine came up. "Mr. Stark?"

"Operations Management at NYU," Tony read with a satisfied nod. "With honors. Top ten percent of your class at St. Teresa's. Volley Ball team, Class VP, three time BMX champ, black belt in Judo, medals in competitive skeet shooting. Skeet shooting? I have a range on sixty-eight, how good are you? Because Rogers is on my last nerve and I'd like to have someone kick his ass. I mean preferably it would be me doling out the ass-kicking but you can't have everything. Besides there's a part of me that wants to see how Star-Spangled-Stick-Up-His-Ass would deal with getting owned and tuned on at the same time." Bryn blinked at him, wide eyed.

"Guns are sexy," Tony informed. "and competence. Competent women with guns are super sexy. I know, I'm dating one and she's a sex goddess. Is big, blond, and obnoxiously moral your type? Because if it is, that man seriously needs to loosen up if you know what I mean." Bryn only gaped at him in silence, her eyes narrowing warily.

"What?" Stark asked, watching her thoughtfully a moment. "You're into girls?"

"You're… kind of making me a little uncomfortable, Mr. Stark," Bryn admitted awkwardly.

"Shit," Tony declared, his eyes going wide in panic. "You're not going to mention that to Pepper are you?"

"Ms. Potts has asked me to notify her on Ms. Marshall's behalf," Jarvis supplied.

"Traitor," Tony hissed under his breath. His jaw worked silently for a moment and he looked up at her with a scrutinizing frown. "I'm going over what I just said in my head and I'm thinking I'm not sure why you didn't slap me."

"I need this job really badly," Bryn admitted. Stark made a face.

"I should make this up to you," He insisted, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "Because you didn't slap me and not many people have that level of fortitude. You want to be my PA? You should totally be my PA because then you can get back at me in some passive aggressive way and make more money while you're doing it."

"Ms. Potts has asked me to remind you," Jarvis interrupted, his tone sour. "That you are no longer allowed to hire a female assistant without her expressed approval as part of,"

"Her agreement to remain CEO of Stark Industries," Tony parroted along, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah I remember." He drew in a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips.

"This could have gone better," He admitted.

"Also, Sir, spending every day with you and your… interesting social interactions could hardly be considered compensation." Jarvis stated blandly.

"Fair enough," Stark allowed. "You're kind of protective of your girl here, Jay,"

"Good help is hard to find, Sir," Jarvis answered without missing a beat.

"When did she start?"

"June twenty-seventh," Jarvis replied.

"Give her a quarterly review and a raise," Tony ordered, downing his last bites of shawarma.

"I'll process it right away, Sir," Jarvis confirmed with a pleased tone.

"I didn't think Stark Industries gave quarterly reviews," Bryn admitted.

"Only to employees Mr. Stark manages to offend in some way," Jarvis provided in irritation.

"Do not get used to it!" Tony warned wagging a finger at her. "I am not coming down here every three months so you can get a raise."

"A girl can hope," Bryn protested. Stark let out a laugh.

"Yeah, okay, I can see why you want to keep her," he admitted, returning his attention to his car.

"To that end, I believe the rest of the team would appreciate a restock of the soda supply," Jarvis reminded.

"Like I care," Stark huffed, waving Bryn off. "Go on, Ms. Marshall, save earth's mightiest heroes from dehydration."

"Yes, Sir," Bryn nodded, a half smile tugging at her lips as she turned back to her bike, rolling it up the ramp and onto the parking pad.

"Um, Jarvis," She offered hesitantly as the storage door rolled shut. "You don't actually have to tell Ms. Potts. He really wasn't that bad."

"An assertion I can corroborate from experience," Jarvis agreed sardonically. Bryn let out a laugh as she loaded the cases of specialty soda into the dumbwaiter.

"He doesn't interact with people much, does he?" She asked.

"Not if he can help it," Jarvis confirmed as Bryn crossed the office, flopping down on the sofa as the parking pad rotated.

"It must be kind of hard for him, having all these people he doesn't really know in his house," Bryn observed. "I had a hard time adjusting to that in college, not having any privacy or personal space. It's got to be worse for him."

"I'm curious as to why you think so," Jarvis admitted.

"Well, he's clearly a little bit of an introvert," Bryn pointed out thoughtfully. "And he's what, the second smartest person in the world?"

"Technically he's the third," Jarvis declared. Bryn nodded.

"What does he even have in common with normal people?" Bryn mused. "I mean, I'm pretty outgoing, all I have to do is find something to talk about and I'm okay. What he has to talk about most people can't even pronounce. And he's got all these superheroes bunking in his house. It's got to get overwhelming sometimes."

"I wish certain members of the team were as perceptive," Jarvis admitted with a sigh. "For the most part everyone has settled in well. Occasionally tensions do run high, however."

"It's rough on you too, isn't it?" Bryn asked sympathetically.

"I've… enjoyed the additional company," Jarvis admitted. "For the most part. It's been a new experience for me. I tend to avoid social interaction as much as possible."

"Little bit of a hermit?" Bryn asked with just a hint of scolding.

"More than a little, I'm afraid," Jarvis answered, chagrined. "I'm far more comfortable being invisible. I find interacting with strangers difficult, being forced to do so has been both stressful and rewarding."

"They've been here long enough that they shouldn't be strangers any more," Bryn pointed out.

"I know," Jarvis admitted. "But I've found my interactions with you to be far less problematic." Bryn's face broke in a grin.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," she resolved.

"As you should," Jarvis agreed. Bryn's eyes narrowed in a thoughtful expression.

"You know, not to overstep my bounds or anything," she added cautiously. "But I enjoy your company too."

"Thank you," Jarvis replied sincerely. "It's not something I can normally infer."

"You want to take one of those mandatory Stark Industries breaks and play a couple of rounds of checkers?" Bryn offered. The surface of the table flickered slightly and a 3D representation of a checkerboard appeared, red and black checkers drawing themselves into place on the board.

"Red moves first," Jarvis offered as Bryn unfolded from the sofa, sliding into the chair at the table.

"You're going to kick my butt, aren't you?" she asked in amusement.

"A statistically likely premise," Jarvis answered. Bryn let out a laugh.

* * *

**Note:**

This chapter takes place roughly one week before "Dubious Consent".


	8. Day: 83 - October 20 2011

**Day: 83 - October 20 2011**

"Bryn I need you to come back to the Tower immediately." Jarvis voice was tight and brittle in her earbud and she frowned, easing up on the throttle of her motorbike so she could hear the call more clearly.

"I haven't been by the bakery or the asian market yet," Bryn stated, confused. She stopped at the light, her eye darting to the bike's gps in time to see both location pins disappear from the map.

"It doesn't matter," Jarvis insisted. "Please, this is very important, I need you to return to the tower as quickly and safely as possible." Bryn revved the motorbike as the light changed, turning the corner, a lead weight sinking to her stomach.

"I'll be right there," She replied, swallowing down the worry that twisted at her insides as she heard the call disconnect. She sped up, ducking though traffic with just a hint more speed than usual. As she turned off of Vanderbilt she almost skidded up short, Steve Rogers was standing near the parking garage entrance, waving her in, his jaw set in grim determination.

"Hurry, hurry up!" he instructed, breaking into a run beside her as she took the corner just a fraction faster than was completely safe. He kept pace with her bike as she sped up to the private garage entrance, her worry exploding into full blown panic to find Tony Stark there, a frown on his face as he motioned her in through the doors.

"Were you followed?" Stark demanded as she skidded to a stop behind the limo that was parked near the elevator. "Did anybody follow you?" Steve was eyeing the garage door as it closed and locked fast, a dark look on his face. He tested it just to be sure before turning to them.

"No," Bryn shook her head as she tugged off her helmet. "No I don't think so. Who would be following me?"

"The US Army," Steve replied with a cold scowl.

"Why would the Army be following me?" Bryn asked in alarm. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it!"

"No, we know," Steve assured. "It's us."

"I thought you were out of town," Bryn declared turning to Steve in confusion as she swung off her bike. "I'm pretty sure I was only feeding two Avengers when I showed up for work this morning."

"We had to come back to keep them from taking Barton," Stark declared, his shoulders tense as if he were simmering with anger. Bryn's attention darted to the limo where Bruce hovered with a fretful expression. Clint was hauling himself out of the back on shaking legs, Happy holding the door that Clint was using for leverage. Her brow knitting in worry as she hung her helmet on the handlebar, taking a few steps toward them. Clint gripped Bruce's shoulder as if to steady himself and without warning he lurched forward.

"Clint!" Bryn squeaked, dashing up to him in time for him to fall into her, half pinning her against the limo. "Little help here?" She called out. Steve and Tony were both there only a moment later, hauling Clint up between them.

"I'm fine, I'm okay," Clint insisted, trembling. "It's just adrenaline, I'll be fine."

"Dump him on my couch," Bryn insisted, crawling our from between Clint and Steve and giving Roger's sleeve a tug. "He's in no shape to walk up to his room."

"She's right," Bruce agreed, herding them up the ramp and across the parking pad.

"Happy, get one of the company cars," Tony instructed. "Go down to the factory in Jersey, stick on Pepper like glue!"

"You've got it boss," Happy nodded, turing toward the elevator with hurried steps. Bryn followed them, darting around Bruce to open the mini fridge as Steve and Tony deposited Clint on the sofa.

"Drink this," Bryn instructed, holding out a bottle of Gatorade to Clint. She turned to Bruce, smacking a bottle of Propel into his chest. "You drink that, you don't look so good. And I know, no corn syrup, I remember." Bruce gave her a sheepish look but opened the bottle as Clint downed half of his own. Bryn shuffled Bruce onto the sofa beside Clint before pulling over one of the chairs at the table and flopping into it as Steve took the other and Tony perched on the arm of the couch, ruffling his hair with a tired expression.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, as Clint took another gulp of his gatorade. "You're a little pale even for you." Tony let out a snort of amusement as Steve threw him a withering look.

"Some self important general took issue with some of the stuff that went down right before the battle of New York," Clint nodded in reply, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh. "Jumped me at SHIELD, tried to pick up Bruce in a two-for-one."

"Is _that_ what this is about?" Bryn asked in disbelief, gaping at Clint. She turned to look at Bruce and then at Steve. "What is his problem?"

"I'm sorry, Bryn," Jarvis sighed. "General Ross has been the cause of a great deal of conflict for various members of the team. I apologize for worrying you, but we felt that there was at least a small risk that one of the General's men would attempt to detain you and gain entrance to the tower using the digital access codes on your bike."

"That's unsettling," Bryn admitted with a frown.

"You should have more firepower," Tony stated, pointing at her. "Like a repulser mounted on the front of your bike, give Ross' asshats a run for their money." Bryn gave him a disbelieving look.

"Tony you can't mount a repulser on a motorbike!" Steve protested. "She drives in traffic, a civilian could get hurt!"

"Yeah but _our_ civilian won't!" Stark pointed out, sliding off the end of the sofa.

"Is that all you care about?" Steve demanded, rolling to his feet as Bruce shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "The collateral damage isn't important as long as it's no one you know?"

"You know what, Freezer-Pop?" Stark snapped. "Some of us are responsible for the safety of others and we take that shit seriously." Steve's eyes narrowed threateningly.

"You see what I have to put up with?" Jarvis asked drolly as the pair continued to bicker.

"I'm beginning to, yeah," Bryn rolled her eyes. Clint let out a snort of a laugh as Bruce covered his mouth with his hand.

"Hey, guys, no offense," Bryn raised her voice over them. "But this, as far as I know, is my office, and I like it stress free in here!" Steve and Tony stopped kicking sand over each other's shoes long enough to stare at her, dumbfounded.

"It's my building," Tony stated, just a bit petulantly.

"However," Jarvis interrupted sharply. "As I've pointed out to Ms. Marshall on several occasions, she does not technically work for you, Sir." Tony seemed to consider this a moment.

"Well, damn," he declared, blinking in surprise. His eyes narrowed slowly. "I'm still pretty sure I could have you fired."

"Yes, I'm sure you could," Jarvis interrupted as Bryn stared back at him uncomfortably. "But I'd quit." Bryn clapped her hand over her mouth at Tony's completely horrified expression. Bruce's shoulders were shaking and Clint fell over into the sofa, muffling his laughter in the cushions.

"I'm feeling a little ganged up on here," Tony confessed uncomfortably.

"I feel so much better now," Clint stated, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling with a choked off giggle. The only one not laughing besides Stark was Steve, who was looking decidedly cowed as he shifted on his feet.

"Thank you," Bryn stated sincerely, folding her arms over her chest as Steve and Tony backed off from each other a pace.

"She's right, I'm sorry," Steve admitted, his cheeks turning red as he glanced at Tony out of the corner of his eye. "It's just… I used to know the rules, there used to _be_ rules! I used to be able to protect my people. I at least knew what to protect them from! I just…" His voice trailed off as his brow furrowed in an angry scowl.

"You did pretty good today," Stark pointed out grudgingly, tossing the folder he'd tucked under his arm onto the table.

"He had to make a rush back with our presidential pardons," Bruce explained, reaching out to pick up the folder, his fingers running over it as if to assure himself it wasn't about to disappear.

"And this Ross guy would ignore a presidential pardon, break in here and arrest you anyway?" Bryn demanded. Clint took a deep breath, nodding. "Isn't that kidnapping?"

"Yep," Stark confirmed with a nod.

"I'm sorry kiddo," Clint stated, rolling upright and reaching out to take her hand. "I'm really glad Jarvis thought to call you back. I didn't mean for you to get dragged into this."

"Clint," She sighed in exasperation. "Oh my god, you are such an idiot!"

"What?" he gaped back at her in confusion.

"I am, like, five years younger than Steve!" She stated, waving a hand in Roger's direction. "I am literally the same age as everyone he went to war with. I am not an infant and I don't need you to protect me. What I need is for someone to tell me how I keep a Hagen-Das run from turning into a security breech!" Clint mouthed at her wordlessly, his attention darting between her and Steve as Bruce closed his eyes, struggling to hide his amusement as he slowly shook his head.

"What?" she demanded, looking up at Stark who was grinning at her with an expression that was by turns both glee filled and evil.

"I'm really starting to like this one," Tony admitted, turning to Steve who was staring at Bryn with rounded eyes, an odd little smile tugging at his lips. Bryn let out a groan, pressing her fingers into her eyes.

"We could add a pin code to the bike's access codes," Bruce suggested. "That way no one else could use the bike."

"That'd work on the motorbike, but I'm not sure where I'd mount the hardware on her bicycle," Stark pointed out. Bruce nodded in grudging agreement.

"Well, what if I called Jarvis on my cell phone?" Bryn shrugged. "He'd know it was me, and he could release the doors."

"Because cellular signals are unreliable and I do not approve of you dialing calls while driving," Jarvis answered crisply, his tone slightly affronted. Bryn bit her lip to hide her grin as Tony chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're her boss not her dad, you know," Stark teased. Clint let out a snort of a laugh, pitching his empty gatorade bottle into the trash can across the room.

"A fact for which, I am certain, she is grateful," Jarvis offered brusquely.

"Why don't we just give her a com?" Steve asked with a shrug. Tony paused, losing whatever dig he intended to make at Jarvis, his expression turning thoughtful.

"System's already set up and everything," he nodded in agreement before turning to Bryn. "How do you feel bout having your over-protective surrogate parent in your ear every time you leave home?"

"If it keeps the Avengers safe, I'm all for it," Bryn insisted firmly before glancing up at the ceiling. "You're not going to critique my driving, are you?"

"Audio only," Jarvis assured, a hint of amusement in his tone. "And if you were to run into any trouble I would know immediately."

"Jarvis has a point," Clint stated, giving her a fond look. "We kind of owe you at least some backup."

"The cheesecake you bring in from Brooklyn is worth more than a little backup," Steve agreed as Tony stifled a laugh.

"Yeah, I'm going to apologize in advance for the lack of knish and miso today," Bryn admitted with a pout.

"Not your fault," Clint shook his head, hauling himself off the couch. He reached out to give her shoulder a squeeze. "Thanks."

"You sure you're okay?" She asked worriedly.

"What do ya think, Doc?" he questioned, turning to Bruce. Banner shrugged.

"I've seen you worse," he admitted, pushing up off the couch with a shrug.

"A ringing endorsement," Steve sighed, running his fingers through his hair before pointing at Bruce and Clint. "You and you, get some rest, please?"

"Yeah, okay mom," Clint sighed, giving him a playful punch in the shoulder.

"Do not go anywhere until I send down a com," Tony instructed, waving a hand at Bryn before following the others out into the garage. She nodded in reply, watching them go.

"Under the circumstances," Jarvis remarked. "I would feel better if you did not go back out for a couple of hours. I want to be certain the area surrounding the tower is secure at the very least."

"Jarvis?" Bryn curled up on the sofa as the Avengers disappeared onto the elevator and the storage doors rolled shut. "I really do appreciate that you look out for me, I do. You're a great boss. But I don't want you to feel like you have to protect me. This job means a lot to me, I want to know I can do it."

"Bryn, there's a fine line between doing one's job and working with one's team," Jarvis supplied pointedly. "You do your job very well, I have never had cause for complaint and I appreciate that greatly. But if there is anything I have learned from Mr. Stark, it is the importance of having someone you can trust to look after your best interests. I have been that for Mr. Stark for many years, it's my job to be that for you as well."

"Do you parent him as much as you do me?" She asked, glancing at the ceiling.

"More."

Bryn let out a laugh, slumping back into the sofa.

"He's like your best friend, isn't he?" She asked. Jarvis paused thoughtfully for a long moment.

"There are simply not words," he admitted finally. Bryn gave a nod, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"You threatened to quit, though," she pointed out. Jarvis let out a huff but she cut him off before he could continue. "Don't do that, okay? I know you don't want to, so don't actually do it."

"Alright," he agreed.

"Unless he goes dark side and tries to take over the world," She could almost feel Jarvis' ruffle of amusement in the air. "On second thought, if he does try to take over, stick with him and let him know I am totally up for being his minion because as evil overlords go, he'd probably be pretty good."

"Bryn, I find your logic disturbingly solid," Jarvis declared.

"Scary, isn't it?" she teased, wriggling off the sofa. "Since I'm not allowed to go anywhere I'm going to grab lunch. Call me if you need me."

"Take your time," Jarvis assured. "Mr. Stark is running a threat assessment."

"Do you guys sleep?" she asked, pausing at the door.

"Mr. Stark maintains that he gets quite enough sleep when he's beaten into unconsciousness," Jarvis deadpanned.

"Keep it up," She warned, struggling not to smile. "I'm going to start mom-ing you as much as you dad me."

"A truly terrifying thought," he admitted. "I expect I had better be on my best behavior."

"Natasha's right about you men," she muttered under her breath as she slipped out the door.

* * *

**Note:**

This chapter corresponds with the flashback events of _The Heart of the Matter: Chapter 6_


	9. Day: 100 - November 14 2011

**Day: 100 - November 14 2011 **

"No, no it did not happen like that at all," Thor shook his head. "I am truly dismayed that the names of such noble friends could be missaccounted so."

"Wait.. what?" Bryn asked with a frown, her brow furrowing as she sipped her coffee. It was an unusually temperate day for late fall, the sun just bright and warm enough to chase away the autumn chill. New York had stumbled blearily out of its offices to drink in what would probably be the last beautiful afternoon before spring and Bryn had joined them, shambling out to the cafe on the sidewalk in front of Stark Tower. She hadn't really expected to practically bump into Avengers, lounging at the cafe tables as if gods and superheroes were common place. She turned to look at Steve who was slouched back in his chair with a latte that was less a cup than it was a bucket, whip cream and carmel practically spilling over the top as he stirred sugar packets in.

"Don't look at me," he said with a shrug, moving his chair over to make room for Natasha as she set her coffee on the table. "I think I've read two books on Norse mythology in my entire life. I don't even remember that one. Hi Tasha."

"Don't move," she instructed, pushing on his shoulder lightly to keep him in his chair before crossing the slightly crowded cafe.

"They are no myth," Thor insisted, draining his own mug and refilling it from the carafe at his elbow. He paused to look out over the bustle on 45th Street with a faint smile as if he found amusement in the scurry of pedestrians on the sidewalk and the rude honking of the taxies. "Though to look at your world now I can see how your past can seem a veil of wonder and mystery."

"Does he always talk like this?" Bryn asked, glancing at Thor with a wary frown.

"Pretty much, yeah," Steve nodded as Natasha settled into a chair she had stolen from one of the nearby tables.

So you're telling me the story my father named me after is a complete fabrication?" Bryn asked skeptically.

"Not a complete fabrication," Thor protested.

"Just a partial one," Natasha stated with a smirk, sipping her cappuccino

"Don't encourage him," Bryn pleaded.

"Tis true that my father did cast a deep sleep over young Brynhild," Thor nodded. "For she chose wrongly in Agnar. He was a man of little honor, and he sought to charm her with tender words. I regret to say that she cast her affections on him and allowed that to cloud her judgement, but such is youth. My father did not wish to see him hold further sway over her."

"So Odin didn't condemn her to mortality?" Bryn asked her caution giving way to curiosity. Thor shook his head.

"He sought only to separate her from Agnar's selfishness," He stated. "It was many years later that Siegfried roused her from her spell and Agnar had been long dead. I counted Siegfried a great and noble man. Though it is true that Grimhild cast him under a spell for a time and her son Gunnar sought to deceive Brynhild by appearing in Siegfried's form, she was much too clever for his deception. She killed Gunnar for his trouble and freed Siegfried from his enchantment. They shared many long years in each other's company."

"Revisionist history," Bryn sulked. "She didn't throw herself on his funeral pyre either, did she?"

"No," Thor looked appalled. "She poisoned herself. Such was her grief she could not bear to go on without him."

"Well that's disappointing," Bryn pouted jabbing her spoon into her coffee.

"You are still young, perhaps when you have loved more deeply you will understand better," Thor suggested.

"Maybe," Bryn allowed, her attention straying to Steve who was staring into his coffee cup with a pained expression.

"Love can spur much sacrifice and count it as nothing," Thor remarked.

"The big question there," Natasha stated, hijacking the conversation. "Is: just where is your charming little astrophysicist?"

"Ah, Jane is in London with her colleague Dr. Selvig, studying the aftereffects of the convergence," Thor smiled fondly.

"That was crazy, I watched the whole thing on TV," Bryn admitted, making a stunned face.

"So did I," Steve answered drily, his brow furrowed in irritation.

"He's sore," Natasha explained, turning to Thor with the faintest hint of apology. "We were in the middle of an op outside Sydney, by the time we'd wrapped up, the only thing we could do was watch on the flight back."

"We managed," Thor assured. "Though I would have been grateful for your assistance, if only for Jane's sake."

"So you have a girl in London?" Bryn asked curiously. "Are you just here for a visit then?"

"Jane's work absorbs much of her attention," Thor admitted without sign of concern. "I find it difficult to fill the hours while she is engaged in her research. I am but an hour away should she have need of me." Bryn stared at him a bit blankly.

"I'm going to admit to the fact that the culture shock here is finally getting to me," Bryn stated, toying idly with her spoon.

"Of course once I spoke with Anthony I was keen to return and see the Son of Coul," Thor admitted. "His loss in the battle weighed heavily on me and I am much relieved to see him returned to us."

"You're not the only one," Natasha admitted, shaking her head with a sigh. "I was starting to worry about Clint."

"Yeah, I thought there wasn't too much left that could surprise me around here," Steve confessed. "I really was not prepared for Tony springing that on me."

"How's he taking it, by the way?" Bryn asked curiously.

"I haven't known him as long as you have," Steve shrugged, turning to Natasha. "But after he got over the initial shock he's been doing better I think."

"Clint's more like himself now," Natasha agreed.

"Not Clint," Bryn waved a hand dismissively. "Mr. Stark."

"Tony?" Steve asked, his brow furrowing.

"I mean, I know how Clint's doing," Bryn added as an afterthought. "He stopped hitting the car when it wouldn't start."

"I…" Steve's eyes narrowed as a soft, knowing smile tugged at Natasha's lips. "Tony's never said anything."

"Well of course not," Bryn rolled her eyes, jabbing him in the arm with her finger. "He's a celebrity, he's used to hiding that kind of thing. I mean, he doesn't have a lot of friends, a public figure can't afford to. I just thought he must have taken Agent Coulson's death pretty hard to spend all that time looking into it."

"You are a very perceptive young woman," Thor stated, emptying his coffee cup and refilling it again. "You were well named, Brynhildr, for you have the insight and judgement of the Valkyrie. I spoke to Anthony at length when I arrived yesterday. It is my belief that he feels betrayed by Nicholas Fury. However, Philip's loss impressed upon him the very great dangers we all face and led in no small part to his choice to invite us to live in his great tower."

"Yeah that's kind of what I thought," Bryn nodded, her spoon clinking against the inside of her cup as Steve stared at them blankly.

"He told you that?" Rogers asked finally.

"Not in so many words," Thor shrugged easily. "But Anthony is more than willing to speak his thoughts to any who would care to listen."

"Mr. Stark will spill if you want to hear or not," Bryn pointed out, as Thor nodded in agreement.

"He… he barely talks to me." Steve admitted.

"Do you listen?" Bryn asked her face free of judgement as she turned to look up at him. If he had an answer he lost it as Natasha's phone let out a beep. She pulled it from her pocket, looking at it with a frown.

"Sorry to run out on you," Natasha declared, standing to her feet. "I need to catch a stray."

"Again?" Bryn asked, making a face. Natasha only shrugged, sweeping up her coffee cup and cutting a circuitous route between the cafe tables until she was lost amongst the bright red umbrellas.

"What was that about?" Steve asked, his brow knitting in worry.

"Aw, Dr. Banner gets stressed out every now and then and tries to make a break," Bryn sighed. "Natasha asked me to stall him once until she could get down to the garage. He's usually pretty sneaky about it, I have no idea how she knows but she always catches him before he leaves."

"Wait… Bruce tries to make a run for it?" Steve asked in shock. "I thought we settled this!"

"He's a nervous kind of guy," Bryn stated. "He worries that he's going to hurt someone. I think this is the first time he's tried to run since the Avengers went official though."

"Is there anything else about my team you'd like to tell me?" Steve asked, his expression crumpling into a mask of hurt confusion. Bryn only stared back at him with a calculating look.

"Agent Coulson's chest pain is a lot worse than he's letting on," She said finally. "You need to not let him do anything strenuous for a while. His doctors are quacks."

"That I knew," Steve let out a breath as if relieved.

"Anything you want to confess?" Bryn asked turning to Thor who was watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement. He seemed to consider it a moment.

"I do not believe I am assimilating well into this society," Thor offered, though he did not look overly concerned about it.

"I'll bet," Bryn nodded in agreement, turning back to Steve with a slightly expectant expression.

"I'm not so sure I'm assimilating either," he admitted, staring into his nearly empty latte. Bryn gave his arm a pat opening her mouth to reply.

"What the hell is that?" she demanded instead, her attention fixed on the TV that hung in the corner over the bar. Steve and Thor were on their feet instantly and Bryn scurried after them, climbing onto one of the bar stools to see over Steve's shoulder as the cafe's patrons moved to huddle around the TV.

"Oh my god, someone tell me this is the Sy-Fy channel!" Bryn declared as they stared, stunned at the news coverage of what looked like more than fifty tin can shaped robots, their lasers cutting though Washington DC as their shrill voices screamed threats at terrified civilians running desperately for cover.

"What manner of creature is this?" Thor scowled.

"Jarvis, are you seeing this?" Bryn demanded, pulling her com from her pocket and stuffing it in her ear.

"Is the Captain still with you?" Jarvis asked instead, his voice strained.

"Go!" Bryn ordered, giving Steve a shove and reaching out to prod Thor as well. "Go on! Why are you still standing here?!"

"Tell Jarvis we're coming!" Steve shouted over his shoulder.

"They're on their way," Bryn answered finally, watching as both men darted franticly across the cafe, jumping the rail and running into the lobby of Stark tower. "What about Natasha and the Doc?" She looked up as she heard the distant whine of repulsers in time to see Iron Man take off from the launch balcony overhead.

"Agent Romanov has him en-route to the jet," Jarvis replied, sounding relieved.

"Why are there robots in DC?" Bryn asked, turning back to the TV with wide, misty eyes.

"I wish I knew," Jarvis admitted. "Bryn, under the circumstances,"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way back," she interrupted, clambering off the bar stool and shouldering her way through the crowd as she heard the quinjet take off. She fought her way toward the back hallway, passing the bathrooms and scanning her SI card at the door marked _Employees Only_. She barely spared a glance for the baristas transfixed by the news coverage as she crossed the storage room, scanning her card at a second door and descending the steps behind them before ducking down the hall at the bottom and opening her office door.

"How long's it going to take Mr. Stark to get there?" She asked, staring at the TV as the video of mountain landscapes was replaced by news coverage of DC.

"Another eleven minutes," He replied. "Fourteen until the rest of the Avengers arrive." Bryn rubbed the tears from the corners of her eyes, biting her lip.

"Are you alright, Bryn?" Jarvis asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm… I'm okay," She choked up, swallowing. "I was outside the perimeter in the battle of New York. So I was… You know, I was going to ask if you were okay?"

"I'm not certain I am ever okay when Sir is in the suit," Jarvis admitted. Bryn curled up on the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she stared at the footage of Washington, silent as Jarvis' countdown ticked slowly in the corner of the TV screen.

"Are they going to be all right?" She asked finally.

"I have to believe they will be," Jarvis insisted. "With Thor's recent return their odds are certainly better." Bryn swallowed a sniffle, rubbing one eye with the cuff of her sweater.

"You were here," Bryn said, her breath hitching. "for the battle of New York. You were here right in the middle of it, weren't you?"

"I was," Jarvis confirmed.

"We hid in the basement of the dorm," Bryn related, pressing her chin to her knees. "We dragged the TV down from the common room and left it sitting in the stairwell so the cable would reach and we watched the whole thing while the ground shook and I remember thinking that if Iron Man and his team couldn't stop it, we were all going to die."

"I confess, I didn't have time to think of much of anything," Jarvis admitted. The cameraman filming the destruction of Washington panned the camera frantically, finally focusing on Iron Man, looping past several of the robots as they fired on him, barely missing.

"Three minutes," Bryn rubbed her eyes. She let out a gasp, covering her mouth as one of the robots blasted Iron Man in the chest, sending him crashing into a nearby building.

"Oh my god!" Bryn shrieked. "Jarvis!"

"He's fine, Bryn," Jarvis replied, though his tone sounded tight. "I monitor the suit's systems, I'd know instantly if he were injured." True to his word, Iron Man shambled to his feet, his armored head shaking like a dog. Bryn buried her face in her hands.

"Bryn, if you would prefer to go home early, I would certainly understand." Jarvis declared gently.

"No," she shook her head, biting her lip as she violently scrubbed the tears from her eyes. "I'll stay, they might need… we don't know what they might need when they get back. I'll stay late, I'll stay till they come home."

"Bryn, I can always have pizza delivered," he insisted.

"I don't want them to make do," She sated softly. "I don't want… they deserve better than that. I'll stay." The roar of jet engines vibrated the TV speakers and the quinjet landed, practically in the middle of the Mall. Bryn drew in a shaky breath as the other Avengers sprang into action, lightning striking several of the robots at once as one of Hawkeye's explosive arrows demolished another.

"It's going to be okay," Bryn murmured, repeating the words as if to convince herself as Cap's shield bounced off one robot and struck the next before it could get off another volley at Iron Man. She let out a huff of a breath, staring at the screen.

"How do you stand this?" She asked finally. "I mean, I've only known these people a few months. You've been watching _family_ do this for ages."

"By believing in them," Jarvis replied. "By believing in all of them. I choose to put my faith in them, to tell myself there is nothing they cannot accomplish, more so when they work together."

"They're not always that good at working together," Bryn pointed out.

"Shhh, you're ruining my delusion," Jarvis scolded. Bryn let out a half laugh, drying her eyes as she stared at the battle on the TV.

"They're going to be okay," she declared again. And for the first time since she'd seen the robots on the news, she actually believed it.

* * *

**Note:**

For the purposes of my own timeline, this story takes place roughly a week after Thor 2 on the same day as the first part of _A Random Feature_

Events and situations are referenced from the portion of _Nat's Boys_ that focuses on Bruce.


	10. Day: 126 - December 21, 2011

**Day: 126 - December 21, 2011**

(two weeks after random feature part two, two weeks before the great pretender)

Bryn parked her bicycle on the parking pad, tugging off her helmet and hanging it on the wall. She made a face as she turned back to the bike to empty the bins. The sound of Alice Cooper belting out _Santa Claws is Coming to Town_, reverberated through the garage, the smell of engine grease stinging her nose as she hefted a pair of bags and headed back down the ramp.

"Hey Mr. Stark," she called out over the noise, she drew in a breath as the music softened and she sighed in relief as Stark looked up from the antique motorcycle he was currently toying with. "Jarvis asked me to restock you."

"Yeah, great," Tony nodded, grasping his screwdriver between his teeth and waving his free hand in the direction of the tiny kitchenette in the far corner of the tool racks. Bryn hid her smile, dumping the bags on the counter.

"Tricking out Steve's bike again?" she asked curiously as she loaded sodas into the door of the mini fridge.

"Yeah, well he and Jarvis won't let me trick out yours," Stark declared sourly. "Have to have something to do with my time."

"I thought you'd be packing," Bryn observed, looking surprised as she stowed energy bars and dried fruit in the cupboard.

"Packing?" Tony looked over his shoulder at her with a perplexed frown. His face screwed up in a thoughtful expression. "Packing?" he repeated.

"You know… how you sick your stuff in a suitcase for your trip tomorrow," Bryn supplied giving him a sidelong look.

"Oh god, is that how normal people travel?" he asked in horror. Bryn nodded looking confused.

"Jarvis?" he asked.

"Christmas presents for your team members and their guests arrived via FedEx at the lodge in Aspen, this morning" Jarvis related. "Housekeeping has stocked the customary toiletries and are scheduled to take delivery of appropriate clothing choices for the local climate this afternoon." Stark gave a nod of satisfaction.

"All packed," he announced returning his attention to the motorcycle. Bryn gave her head a shake as if to clear it.

"You buy all new clothes for a vacation?" Bryn asked, her eyes wide with disbelief. Stark gave a grunt of assent.

"If Colorado has to deal with a house full of neurotic superheroes at Christmas, seems the least I can do is compensate the local economy," he declared.

"Okay," Bryn allowed, nodding as she folded up the empty canvas shopping bags. "What happens to the clothes when you come home?"

"Charity," Stark answered with a shrug, then seemed to think about it, "Not sure. Jarvis?"

"Casual attire is scheduled for donation to a homeless shelter in Denver," Jarvis replied succinctly. "Formal wear for the Christmas eve party is to be donated to an organization that outfits underprivileged students for the prom. Skiing equipment and accessories are to go to a youth athletic program." Stark seemed to consider this a moment.

"Neat," he declared before returning his attention to the Captain's motorcycle, twisting down to fiddle with something under the gas tank.

"That's, that's really generous of you, Mr. Stark," Bryn stated, a bit awed. Tony let out a dismissive huff. She crossed the garage, holding out the last ice coffee and Stark took it from her without comment. "No, really it is. It's great that you're taking your team on vacation for Christmas too, I know Clint really appreciates it, it's been a bad year for him. But I'm really glad Steve's not spending Christmas in New York, so it's really good you're doing that for him."

"I.. what now?" Tony asked his eyes narrowing as he drew his head out from under the bike and opened the bottle.

"Well, this is his first Christmas… here," Bryn shrugged a bit helplessly "I mean, I've been spending some time with him, not a lot, but enough to notice he's, well he's kind of a little bit depressed. I mean, who wouldn't be? He wakes up and his friends are all gone, his neighborhood, even the place on the corner where he used to buy bread, they're not there any more. Guy saves the world and his is just completely wiped off the map, has to screw with your head a little." Stark stared at her, his brow knitted, the lines around his eyes creasing as he took a swig of his coffee.

"You know, Ms. Marshall, sometimes I really don't know what to make of you," he admitted.

"Sorry sir," she answered, her cheeks turning pink as she ducked her head, heading back toward her office.

"He's… Ms. Marshall?" She stopped and turned back as Tony's voice trailed off. His shoulders rose as he drew in a slow breath and he gave her a serious look. "Any chance he's a danger to himself?"

"I…" Bryn bit her lip, hesitating. "I'm not sure, I don't think so. When he has stuff to do, people to spend time with, he seems happier… well maybe not happy exactly, but not so sad." Stark nodded slowly.

"He drives me nuts," Tony admitted, wincing. Bryn's face broke in a grin that she tried to hide and his eyes narrowed at her.

"It's just…" she paused as if choosing her words carefully. "Well he was friends with your father, right?" Tony nodded stiffly.

"You're like the only connection he has to his old life," Bryn pointed out. "Every time he complains about _you_, he complains that you're going to get yourself killed. I think he's maybe a little scared of losing the only familiar thing he has left." Tony stared at her with a blank, bemused expression.

"Get back to work before Jarvis threatens me again, Marshall," he ordered curtly, jerking his head toward the storage doors before returning his attention to the motorcycle.

"Yes sir," she nodded, retreating across the garage.

"I'm a bit worried about Captain Rogers myself," Jarvis admitted hesitantly as the storage doors slid shut, effectively muffling the sounds of heavy metal Christmas in the garage. "I'd rather hoped he might have grown more comfortable by now."

"He doesn't smile much," Bryn observed, folding up on the couch with a sigh. "I mean, he has a great smile when he's out in public, I just don't see it much otherwise. I was really worried about Clint there at first, but he doesn't seem as bad now. He's not okay but he's getting there. I'm not so sure about Steve, I don't think he's alright."

"I wish I could see people the way you do," Jarvis lamented, the faintest hint of longing in his tone. "My job is to anticipate and provide. I've always managed to anticipate Mr. Stark, but I look at the others and sometimes I'm overwhelmed. Most of the time I'm not even sure about their emotional states, not the way you are."

"I don't do anything special," Bryn protested.

"Perhaps you just don't see it that way," Jarvis chided gently. "You're very good with people and you make it seem effortless. For those of us who struggle with social interaction it's very remarkable indeed." Bryn's cheeks flushed and she ducked her head, drawing one knee to her chest.

"Most of it's mom," She related with a fond smile. "She was great with people, really great. She always told me to look at people when they talk, really look, not just listen."

"I'm not always certain how to interpret what I see," Jarvis admitted. "I suppose I'm still clinging to the notion that it will become easier as I grow older." Bryn's brow wrinkled in a thoughtful frown.

"Jarvis, how old are you?" she blanched almost immediately. "You know what? That was really rude, don't answer that."

"I don't mind telling you, Bryn," he replied, his tone tinged with amusement. "I'm twenty-four."

"Hell no!" she declared in surprise. She blushed instantly, grinning. "Wow, it's just, you come off as a lot older than that. Did you come to work for Mr. Stark right out of Super British Butler School or something?"

"You're not _too_ far off the mark," Jarvis replied drily. "But I never attended Butler School." Bryn gave the security camera in the corner a knowing look even though she had no way of knowing if Jarvis was actually watching.

"You're an easy guy to like, Jarvis," Bryn offered gently. "you're considerate and that's really rare these days. Maybe if you're not so good at reading people you should just offer to listen. A lot of times people will tell you what they need if they feel it's safe to let their guard down."

"I'll consider it," he replied seriously. "I believe that was the last of the errands, you're more than welcome to take off early to prepare for the Stark Industries Christmas party tonight if you'd like."

"Jarvis, am I going to see you the party?" she asked.

"No, you won't," he replied softly.

"The whole socializing thing is really a problem for you, isn't it?" Bryn asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

"If it's any consolation, I've never felt lonely," Jarvis declared. "I can understand why others enjoy these sorts of gatherings, I simply don't share in that enjoyment."

"That's fair," Bryn nodded, standing to her feet and opening her locker to remove a garment bag. "I'm kind of looking forward to it, Tasha helped me pick out a really good dress. Can you believe she does almost all her clothes shopping online?"

"She values efficiency," Jarvis remarked. "One more thing." the dumbwaiter opened and Bryn hooked the garment bag over the locker door, shifting to see a flat square box, neatly wrapped in red and gold paper with a large red bow.

"Aww, Jarvis!" she protested. "I didn't get you anything."

"I would really prefer that you not, Bryn," Jarvis insisted. "This is a small token of thanks from myself and the Avengers for everything you've done. Reciprocation would hardly be warranted." Bryn lifted the box out of the dumbwaiter, giving the end of the bow a gentle tug as she grinned.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted.

"Please open it," Jarvis encouraged. Bryn set the box on the table, tugging the wrapping free.

"You can not tell Agent Barton until after Christmas," he cautioned as an afterthought. "Mr. Stark's gift to him came from the same source."

"Avengers Monopoly?" Bryn gaped, her fingers caressing the sides of the box. "Jarvis this is amazing! I didn't even know these existed."

"They technically do not, yet," Jarvis admitted. "This is a prototype from the toy line for next Christmas. They will be on the market in September."

"This is…" Bryn's face broke in a wide grin. "Mr. Stark must have really pulled in some favors for this."

"It was actually quite easy to acquire in light of Mr. Stark's most recent subsidiary purchase,"

"Purchase?" Bryn's eyes were wide like saucers. "Mr. Stark bought _Hasbro_?"

"Originally he only wanted to purchase the Nerf division," Jarvis admitted. "But they were unwilling to part with the property so he was forced to buy everything. In hindsight it was a very strategic move, there are now several additional Avenger's themed toy lines due for release next year. I'm sure PR will be most pleased."

"Would a Hawkeye purple Nerf bow be one of them?" She asked as she tugged the lid off of the box.

"Not a word," Jarvis warned severely. Bryn laughed, folding out the board carefully.

"Everyone signed it!" Bryn fairly glowed as her eyes skittered over each signature, finally falling on the "Hawkeye" complete with a cartoon bow and arrow. "How did Clint sign it if he doesn't know it exists?"

"Subterfuge," Jarvis answered readily. Bryn let out a delighted laugh as she pulled the tiny pewter Iron Man figure from the box.

"Jarvis this is absolutely fantastic," she stated placing the Iron Man marker on top of the square marked _Avenger's Tower. _"This… thank everyone for me, would you?"

"I'll be certain to mention it at Christmas morning brunch," he confirmed as she reluctantly repacked the board game."

"You know, I'm starting to see your point," Bryn admitted. "I am really thinking about blowing off this party to stay in and play board games."

"Agent Romanov is doubtless keen to see your dress," Jarvis reminded primly. Bryn pulled a face.

"Yeah, okay, you've made your point," she stated, gently tucking the board game into her locker and grabbing her backpack and garment bag. "I'm going up to the gym to get a shower."

"Enjoy your evening," he replied sincerely.

"Hey Jarvis," she smiled at the security camera as she reached for the door. "If I don't talk to you before… Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Bryn," he replied. Her smile brightened as she slipped out the door.

* * *

**Note:**

The chapter references events at Christmas that were mentioned in passing in Chapter 5 of _If the Night Runs Over_


	11. Day: 141 - January 20, 2012

**Day: 141 - January 20, 2012**

Phil slouched at the desk in his suite, rubbing his temples as he stared mindlessly at the muted TV, his brow twisting down into a frown on one side and up into incredulity on the other.

"Clint…. no," he murmured as the hundred and fifty foot lizard stomped across the screen, flattening several Toyotas that lined the harbor street.

"Sorry, Pepper," he apologized with a sigh. "I was reviewing the footage." he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in an effort to focus on the voice on the other end of the phone line.

"No," he replied, pausing. "No, Tony's generosity aside, they need to stop expecting him to clean up their messes for them." He made a face at the TV as Steve landed on the creature's head, pummeling it with his shield. He rolled his eyes.

"Well if they don't want their cities destroyed they need to stop funding AIM's insane science projects." Phil insisted. "Pepper, my dear, wonderful, charming friend. I absolutely demand, on the strength of our mutual, deep affections that you not give those idiots a single red cent in assistance." Phil's face crumpled as Thor smacked the creatures toes with Mjölnir to distract it from Iron Man trying to cut off its tail with his repulsers.

"Yes, of course," Phil nodded with a hint of resignation. "Use your surreptitious charitable accounts like you normally do. Yes, Pepper." He rested his head on his blotter.

"No, of course I'm not mad," he declared, and to his credit he did not sound the least put out. "Yes, I adore you too… lunch, yes… tomorrow… yes… bye." He pulled the earbud from his ear without raising his head, letting out his breath in a long, exasperated sigh that made him melt further into the oak desk.

"Agent Coulson, I wonder if I could have a moment?" It was the tentative tone of the question more than anything else that convinced him not to play dead and Phil drew in a steadying breath before pushing himself upright. He paused for just a moment at a properly professional posture before finally giving an internal 'to hell with it' and sprawling back in his overstuffed desk chair to stare blankly at the ceiling.

"Of course, Jarvis, what can I do for you?" he asked, monotoned.

"I'm terribly sorry to impose," the AI answered uneasily. "But I was wondering if you might be able to offer me some guidance in regard to Ms. Marshall." Phil blinked three times before slowly sitting up. The giant lizard on the TV diverted his attention for just a moment and he reached for the remote, punching the off button with prejudice before carefully folding his hands on his desk.

"Bryn, the courier?" he clarified.

"Yes," Jarvis confirmed. "You've met her, I'm sure." the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Phil's mouth.

"Yes," he nodded. "I've spoken to her a couple of times. I thanked her for looking out for Clint while I was recovering."

"I'm," Jarvis flat out hesitated a moment and Phil's eyebrows arched in surprise but he said nothing. "I believe I'm having difficulties maintaining a delineation between professional interest in an employee and personal protectiveness of a friend."

Phil stared blankly at the wall that held the now dark TV as long slow seconds ticked by.

"Agent Coulson?" Jarvis prompted with a hint of unease.

"I'm sorry, Jarvis, you just surprised me," he stated, the first real smile easing the furrows from his brow. "I'm a little curious why you're coming to me and not Pepper or Tony."

"I'll freely admit that my experience in human interaction is somewhat limited," Jarvis confessed seriously. "but even I have observed that sir is hardly a paragon of balance." Phil bit his lip to keep from laughing as he ducked his head.

"And I have observed Ms. Potts struggle with the same difficulties with Sir for several years now," Jarvis added as Phil wrestled his expression back into a neutral one. "You, on the other hand have maintained a close friendship with both Agent Barton and Agent Romanov for some time and I have never once detected any adverse affect to your operations in the field. I felt you were better equipped to offer direction." Phil let out a huff of amusement, the set of his shoulders easing slightly.

"Thank you," he replied sincerely. "That's, well, it's quite a compliment. It's not always an easy balance to maintain. Is there something specific that's bothering you? We can start there."

"In the last three weeks there have been four daylight armed robberies in areas along Ms. Marshall's normal travel routes." Jarvis supplied, activating several holoprojections with accompanying news reports for reference. "I find myself increasingly anxious when her duties take her down these streets in particular, despite the fact that I know she has adequate self defense training and is carrying a weapon." Phil's eyes scanned the articles and he frowned, shaking his head.

"She seems like a bright young lady," Phil offered. "I'm sure she wouldn't do anything unnecessarily risky."

"I'm confident she wouldn't as well," Jarvis agreed, a hint of a sigh in his tone. "But I would like to do something to give her an added advantage. I'm accustomed to Sir dismissing my concerns and proceeding however he pleases. As my employee, Ms. Marshall is obliged to respect my requests. However on several occasions both Sir and Agent Barton have accused me of being too protective and Ms. Marshall has made a handful of passing comments to that effect as well. I do not wish her to believe that I lack confidence in her, but I do not want to see her safety unduly risked either. I am at odds over the best course of action."

"Jarvis," Phil paused with a considering frown. "Is this the first time you've had a friend that was better acquainted with you than they were with Tony?"

"Agent Coulson, until the Avengers began living in the tower my only relationships were with Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts and Mr. Hogan."

Phil's face fell. He quickly glanced down at his desk in the hope that Jarvis wouldn't catch his expression. He'd completely failed to realize Jarvis was anything more than a sophisticated user interface on their first meeting, something that, in retrospect, was probably a form of defense mechanism. He understood well the power of being underestimated, he used it to his own advantage with alarming frequency. He'd never really considered how isolating it would be for the AI to have spent the vast majority of his interactions with strangers pretending to be a really classy smart phone.

"Our jobs really aren't that dissimilar, are they?" he offered finally, "When you care about someone you want to protect them. There's a rule as a handler; you protect your assets from bad decisions, from bad guys, from bad habits and bad intel and bad food if you can. But you never, ever protect them from doing their jobs. You give them every tool you can to make sure that they get the job done and that they come back in the best shape possible. But you don't hold them back. You let them do what they were meant to do. Over the years I've had to order Clint to stay in medical, and order Natasha to eat and sleep, I even ordered them both to abandon missions on occasion when I deemed the risk greater than the reward. They put their trust in me to make the right call, and I trust them to do their jobs. That is not always easy. Do you feel like you've given her every tool you can to keep her safe?"

"I have utilized all the technology currently at my disposal," Jarvis confirmed. He gave a thoughtful pause before continuing. "I've observed that the Avengers in general and Agents Barton and Romanov in particular invest a significant amount of time in improving their combat skills. Do you believe Ms. Marshall might benefit from additional training?"

"Additional training is almost always something to be appreciated," Phil nodded firmly. He rested his elbows on the desk, leaning his chin on his folded hands. "Would you like me to evaluate her hand combat and range skills?"

"Agent Coulson I would not want to interfere with your duties only to ease my own concerns," Jarvis protested but Phil could hear the underlying hopefulness.

"Clint and Tasha still won't spar with me," Phil pointed out with a self depreciating smile. "I could certainly use the workout. If it goes well I might make it routine."

"If you're certain it's not an imposition," Jarvis hesitated.

"Three o'clock tomorrow?" Phil offered.

"Very well, I'll let Ms. Marshall know," Jarvis confirmed. "Thank you, Agent." Phil gave a small smile, nodding.

"And thank you for the advice," he added.

"Any time, Jarvis," Phil replied. "You know, she's lucky to be working for someone like you."

"I'm very lucky to have her friendship," Jarvis pointed out. Phil smiled.

"I wonder if Tony realizes how much his boy is growing up," Phil murmured to himself so soft that not even the best sensors could detect it. He reached out, picking up his remote and turning the TV back on.

Natasha got a run up, leaping into Hulk's outstretched palm and allowing him to hurl her through the air at the giant lizard. She rammed a climbing spike into its hide, just above its shoulder and the beast gave a shuddering roar, violently shaking its head, her small, lithe body flapping in the breeze like a bed sheet as it attempted to dislodge her. Phil let his head sink to the blotter again.

"Oh god, they're trying to kill me!" he declared, banging his forehead softly a handful of times. "I take it all back! They don't need a handler, they need a damn time out!"

* * *

**Note: **

This chapter takes place the day after the events in _Tokusatsu_


	12. Day: 163 - February 21, 2012

**Day: 163 - February 21, 2012**

"Hey guys," Bryn pried the lid off her latte, climbing onto the stool at the bar table in the employee lounge on floor forty-two.

"Hi Bryn," Steve gave her a warm smile, leaning against the reproduction Wherlitzer whose strains of _My Girl_ were only incidental over the sound of the pinball machine in the corner that was occupying a pair of interns.

"Hey kiddo," Clint's attention was completely focused on the pool table he was leaning over, his eyes narrowed. He made the shot, looking up as the seven ball clipped off the edge of number thirteen to roll neatly into the side pocket. "You just get out of the gym?"

"Yeah," She nodded, ruffling her still damp hair until her shaggy curls stood on end. "Coulson is a heartless villain and you can tell him I said that."

"He'll be flattered," Clint nodded with a snort of amusement as Steve lined up his own shot. "Whenever you're ready gramps."

"You didn't leave me anything," Steve groused, his tone without heat as he leaned over the table in front of Bryn. Clint shifted a step, giving Steve's backside a considering look before turning his wolfish grin on Bryn who merely met his gaze with a warning expression.

"I wasn't going to spoil it," Clint held up his hands. Bryn bit her lip to stifle her amusement, shaking her head.

"What?" Steve asked, straightening as the cue ball neatly wedged itself between two stripes.

"Asshole," Clint sighed, surveying the table as Bryn giggled and The Temptations gave way to Simon and Garfunkel

_We'd like to know a little bit about you for our files_

_We'd like to help you learn to help yourself._

"How are your range scores coming along?" Steve asked politely, taking the seat across from her as Clint swore half under his breath, circling the table like a hawk.

"A little better," She nodded, sipping her coffee. "I mean, I was never Olympic good, but my accuracy is going up the more I practice. Thanks for the tips by the way, Clint."

"Yeah yeah," he huffed, waving a hand at her, his attention on the table. "anything to make Big Brother less paranoid."

"I heard that," Jarvis declared drily, Clint started and the cue stick went off target, nearly falling from his hand but he made a made grab for it at the last moment, catching it before it could ruin the shot. Bryn and Steve both covered their mouths to hide their laughter.

"Why were you listening in?" Clint demanded with a frown.

"Because we were just discussing the fit of your body armor," Jarvis reminded with no small amount of irritation. "and I was waiting for an assessment on the field performance of the new prototype."

"Oh… right," Clint stated, chagrinned. "It's… I don't know, the shoulders still feels like it's pulling a little in the drawback… but it's a lot more comfortable in the arms than the last one."

"I'll let Mr. Stark know," Jarvis confirmed. "Also, the Maria Stark foundation will be sponsoring a street carnival next month to raise money for the Barton Fund, shall I put you down as attending?"

"Oh, I'll go!" Steve instead brightly, sliding out of his seat as Clint made his shot.

"Yeah, sure," Clint nodded, his expression going a little soft. "What the hell, better than those celebrity galas, right?" Steve nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"Is this what you guys do all day?" Bryn asked curiously, sipping her coffee. "Play pool, irritate Jarvis and wait for the next disaster to strike?"

"Pretty much," Steve nodded with a grin as he leaned over the table to consider his shot.

"Sometimes we play Mario Kart while we irritate Jarvis," Clint pointed out with a shrug before glancing up at the ceiling. "Sorry about that, you know we appreciate you, right?"

"I do remind myself of that daily," Jarvis sighed. "Sometimes several times in an afternoon."

_Where have you gone, Captain America?_

_Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you. Woo Woo Woo_

_What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson?_

_Captain Steve has left and gone away, hey hey hey._

"Oh my god!" Bryn clapped her and over her mouth to stifle her giggle as Steve froze, his ears turning a vibrant, lurid shade of red. Clint leaned into the table, his shoulders shaking as Steve's face contorted between embarrassment and something that could only be described as glee. "Have you never heard this song?" Steve shook his head slowly biting his lip.

"This happens every damn time," Clint teased mercilessly. "You should see what happens when _Candle in the Wind_ comes on."

"Oh no," Steve covered his face with his hand.

"Goodbye Steve Rogers," Bryn began to sing, almost instantly the karaoke soundtrack began to play and she stepped up her performance as Clint howled in delight. "Though I never knew you at all. You had the grace to place yourself, where men were sure to fall."

"Please don't," Steve pleaded, his cheeks turning pink, though there was a clear sparkle of delight in his eyes as he shuffled awkwardly. Bryn let out a laugh as Clint doubled up, his shoulders shaking violently.

"High fives, Jarvis!" Bryn smiled smugly, giving him a thumbs up as the music faded out.

"You two are a menace," Steve insisted as Clint straightened, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

"Don't stand there and pretend you don't _like_ it," she prodded. "Because I can see right through that big toe in the sand routine."

"No, it's flattering," Steve agreed, his shoulders hunching up as if he were trying to look smaller. "It's just, I never expected it. I thought once the war was over no one would remember. I thought that was it."

"You mean a lot to a lot of people, Steve," Clint finally calmed, chalking his cue as he shook off the last of his laughter. "You got cheated out of your life but you saved a lot of others doing it. People remember that."

"Captain did you believe the members of the 107th would forget?" Jarvis chastised gently as Steve straightened from taking his shot. "Their wives and children and grandchildren?" Steve opened his mouth as if to reply but shut it quickly.

"You did, didn't you?" Bryn observed shrewdly. She shook her head, a sad frown on her face.

"It's different on this side of it, Bryn," Clint insisted, his eyes studying the table instead of making contact with her own. "You know that what you're doing matters. It's just if you think about it too much…" His voice trailed off and he swallowed, returning to the game as if he hadn't spoken at all.

"Are all super heroes this neurotic?" she asked skeptically.

"All the ones I know are," Jarvis observed drily.

"Says the guy with runaway agoraphobia," Bryn countered, her tone gently chiding. Steve's shoulders stiffened a little but Clint prodded him with his cue stick before he could say anything.

"Point taken," Jarvis conceded.

"Hey, Jarvis is a super hero too, he's entitled," Clint defended, half twisting his upper body into the middle of the pool table to make his shot.

"That's probably fair," Bryn admitted, draining the last of her coffee and slipping out of her chair. "Well Super-Boss, what's on the shopping list for the Greatest American Heroes?"

"A bakery run and imported soda," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement.

"Can their be bagels?" Steve pleaded.

"I'll add it to the list," Jarvis assured as Bryn gave him a thumbs up."

"See you guys around!" She called over her shoulder as she chucked her paper cup in the bin and headed for the elevator. The doors closed and she leaned against the wall for a moment.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes?"

"I maybe shouldn't have made the agoraphobia comment," she offered.

"You were not inaccurate," he admitted hesitantly.

"You know it's just I worry about you, right?" she added quickly.

"I understand," Jarvis' tone was placating and she eased a little more against the elevator wall. "I'm not unhappy. In fact, I find my life both challenging and fulfilling. I'm very proud of what I do to aid the Avengers."

"You should be," She insisted. "They're lucky to have you. I hope they know that."

"It's a sentiment I here with regularity," he assured.

"I'm lucky too," Bryn added, smiling up at the security camera as the elevator doors opened.

"As am I," Jarvis agreed warmly. she flashed a bright grin before bounding out of the elevator on light feet.

* * *

**Note:**

This chapter takes place shortly after _Quotient_ and was inspired in part by a post on tumblr that you can find on my blog (niennanir dot com), along with the entire lyrics to Steve's version of candle in the wind. Look for the link at the top of the page marked "About my Fanfiction"


	13. Day: 187 - March 26, 2012

**Day: 187 - March 26, 2012**

* * *

**Author's Warning:**

This chapter takes place concurrent to Chapter 1 of _If the Night Runs Over_ between the point where Clint loses consciousness after the battle and when he wakes in SHIELD medical.

All the warnings that apply to that story also apply to this chapter. Please be advised.

* * *

The elevator doors opened and Bryn shifted the shopping bags she'd slung over her shoulders as the SHIELD security officer stepped out of the elevator ahead of her, waving a hand down the right hand corridor with a tight smile. Bryn gave the woman a sharp nod before heading in the indicated direction toward a pair of double doors.

"Badge?" the young security guard stationed in front of the doors requested politely. Bryn tugged her visitor's pass out from under the strap of her bag and he used a hand scanner to read the barcode before giving a nod and running his security pass through the card reader by the door.

"They're in the last room on the left," he stated, opening the door for her.

"Thanks," she tried to force a smile but it came off lopsided and strained. The SHIELD security guard only gave her an understanding look and she headed down the corridor, past a nurse clutching a StarkPad and a pair of orderlies who were nearly running as they dodged past her. She passed a handful of treatment rooms, all of them empty before approaching another guard standing near a door marked "Secure OR". She stopped just a few yards from it, pausing on the threshold of the last door on the left.

"Hey guys," she declared, her voice sounding hollow despite her efforts to make it light and cheerful. "Anybody hungry?"

Six sets of eyes looked up at her with blank expressions. Doctor Banner was sitting in the middle of the floor, his legs folded in front of him, his hands resting on his knees. Not far from him Tony Stark was straddling one of the chairs at the table, his chin resting on the chair back as he fiddled with his phone. Agent Coulson was on the other side of the table, his attention on his laptop only moments before while Thor had sprawled on the end of one of the sofas in the room, one leg dangling over the arm. Natasha had folded herself into the windowsill, her head resting on her knees and on the other side of the room Steve was frozen mid step where he'd clearly been pacing back and forth between he window and the other sofa.

"Jarvis, what's she doing here?" Tony's tone was sharp but not angry though Bryn winced anyway.

"The battle concluded over six hours ago," Jarvis voice replied from Tony's phone with the faintest hint of harshness. "And none of the Avengers have had anything to eat since before the call to assemble. I must insist that all of you eat something." Tony gritted his teeth but didn't reply.

"I got chicken soup from the deli," Bryn declared with a hint of hesitance, setting down the bags on the table and emptying them. She handed a container of soup and a spoon to Bruce who took them without comment or protest. "I know it's your favorite. And there's mac and cheese and sandwiches. And I brought OJ, I figured you'd be sick of soda by now Steve."

"Thanks," Steve managed, his voice sounding as if it had not been used in some time as he took the bottle she held out to him.

"If there's anything any of you want," She stated, hefting the case of orange juice and opening the mini fridge in the corner. "I can." Her voice cracked and she froze, drawing in a sharp breath.

"Go home Marshall," Stark declared.

"Sir?" she grimaced at the waver in her voice but she didn't move. Tony's shoulders stiffened.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" Stark demanded, and now he did sound angry. Bryn opened her mouth to reply but he cut her off "SI has a god damned bereavement and family leave policy, Jarvis. The least you could have done was send the poor kid home."

"Sir, I," Jarvis began but Stark cut him off.

"Seriously Marshall, pack it in," His voice softened in resignation and he rubbed his hand over his face. "I'll make sure Jarvis calls you as soon as we know something."

"Tony's right," Steve murmured softly, his hand settling on her shoulder. "Clint's your friend too. You should go home."

"I asked to say," Bryn admitted, her voice small as she turned to look up at him. "It's… easier if I keep busy. Jarvis offered me the afternoon off Mr. Stark. I just…" She bit her lip as it trembled.

"It was nice of you and Jarvis to think of food," Phil stated, standing to his feet and proceeding to unpack the remainder of the shopping bags, tapping Tony's shoulder and handing him a sandwich before passing a container of mac and cheese to Thor and holding soup out to Natasha, shooting her a glare when she didn't move. Natasha uncurled stiffly from her spot on the windowsill, taking the container with a scowl.

"Aye," Thor agreed, his voice soft as he stared into his takeout container. "It is much appreciated that you would see to our needs."

"There's a coffee shop on the corner," Bryn offered, her voice barely warbling as she drew in an unsteady breath.

"Yes, get everyone their usual," Phil replied before anyone could say anything. "Extra larges. The coffee in medical is downright deplorable. I think they do it on purpose so no one stays any longer than they need to." Bryn gave a nod, Steve's hand on her shoulder stopping her as she moved toward the door.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked gently. She stared back at him a long moment before finally shrugging and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting his hand fall away.

"Steve, eat something," Phil insisted, passing him a container of mac and cheese as Bryn headed out the door. She only made it a few yards when the Secure OR doors swung open and a doctor with greying hair and a beard emerged, a tight expression on his face as he strode into the waiting room. Bryn's legs turned to jelly and she leaned against the wall, taking in a few gulping breaths, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the low murmur of the Doctor's voice.

"What do you mean spinal damage?" Tony's voice barked out with violent force. Bryn clapped her hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut as the hallway slanted strangely.

"Tony, just," it was Steve's placating voice but Stark would clearly have none of it.

"How much damage?" Tony demanded angrily as Bryn's face screwed up amid the soft hum of words she couldn't make out. "No dammit, you tell me right now. I'm not going to swallow the medical bullshit, you tell me if he's going to walk out of here when he wakes up!" She couldn't hear the doctor's reply but she also couldn't mistake the sound of a chair being thrown into the wall.

"Tony!" Steve fairly shouted. "Tony, don't!"

Bryn made a dive across the hall, crashing into the door to the lady's room and scrambling into the nearest stall before losing the fight against nausea. She heaved until her head swam, and when she could breathe again she let out a broken sound, curling up on the tile floor and pulling her knees to her chest.

"Bryn, are you alright?" Jarvis' voice was soft and the slightest bit strained in her ear and she winced. She'd forgotten she was even wearing her com. She opened her mouth to reply but no sound came out and she choked on air, huge tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Bryn, please answer me," Jarvis pleaded. "I'm monitoring your vitals though your com, your heart rate and breathing are both distressingly erratic, please say _something_."

"He's never going to walk again," she squeaked out, her whole body shaking.

"They aren't sure," Jarvis replied, but he sounded completely miserable and Bryn buried her face in her arms. "it doesn't look promising, but it isn't hopeless."

"He fell so far," she gasped out, tears flowing freely now. "He fell and… why did they put that on TV? Why were the news cameras even there? They should have been outside the perimeter! They shouldn't have even been there!"

"Bryn, he's alive," Jarvis insisted. "You have to hang onto that. Agent Barton is alive and there is no lasting brain injury."

"If Iron Man hadn't been trying to keep those stupid reporters from getting shot he could have made it in time!" Bryn fumed, her breath coming in short gasps as tears spilled over her lashes. "This is their fault!"

"Bryn, stand up!" Jarvis ordered sharply. Bryn sucked in a startled breath, pressing her fingers to her lips. She got her feet under her, slowly pushing herself up the tile wall, her fingers grasping for a handhold on the latch as the door swung uselessly on its hinges.

"Take a deep breath," Jarvis' tone softened and she drew in a slow breath, the sting of the latch digging into her palm grounding her. "And another, your heart rate is twice normal, if you don't get yourself under control you're likely to pass out. You have every right to be upset or angry but I will not allow you to do yourself injury. Can you walk or shall I call Agent Romanov?"

"I can walk," she whispered, her legs wobbling as she took stilted steps toward the sink. She splashed water on her face, rinsing her mouth out before leaning into the counter. Her pale reflection stared back at her with hollow eyes and she looked away, fresh tears spilling down her face to splash against the porcelain.

"Bryn, you can still go home if you like," Jarvis offered softly. "I will call you the moment I know anything more."

"Are you," she paused, drawing in a hiccup of a breath. "Do you get to go home?"

"This is home," Jarvis stated. "I don't have another to go to, you know that."

"I'll stay," she insisted, her voice unsteady. "if you're staying then I am too. There's no one else to take care of them. It's just us."

"Thank you," Jarvis replied gently. "do you need a few more minutes? I can call ahead to the coffee shop and give them the standard order."

"No, I'll do it," Bryn shook her head, squaring her shoulders and heading for the door on unsteady feet. "You keep an eye on Mr. Stark and the others. I'll get coffee." She pushed the door open, pausing on the threshold as Steve hurried past, his boots thudding against the floor with each long stride.

"Tony, wait!" he pleaded. Bryn peered around the edge of the wall, hanging back in the alcove in front of the bathroom doors. She bit her lip, her brow furrowing at the defeated slump of Steve's shoulders as he skidded to a stop only a handful of steps from the other man.

"Why don't you just fucking say it!" Stark rounded on him, his eyes narrowed threateningly. "Come on, just say it, Captain Perfect!"

"Tony it's not," Steve began but Tony cut him off.

"Just say what you're all thinking," he barked at the Captan with such force Bryn took a step back, scrunching into the corner of the alcove. "I didn't make it in time."

"Tony you were protecting civilians!" Steve protested in dismay, nearly cringing at Tony's snarl. "No one blames you! It's not your fault you couldn't get there."

"Yeah, tell that to Barton," Stark snapped viciously, spinning on his heel and storming down the hall.

"Tony!" Steve's face twisted in a crushed expression and a moment later he followed.

"It wasn't his fault," Bryn whispered, rubbing at the tears that streaked her face once more. "I was watching, it wasn't…"

"Mr. Stark has a very difficult time dealing with the fact that he cannot always protect those he cares for," Jarvis admitted softly. "And he is particularly fond of Agent Barton."

"Yeah," Bryn nodded. "Me too." She straightened her shoulders, giving the hem of her shirt a tug and smoothing out an imagined wrinkle before stepping out into the hall, heading back toward the elevator. "Maybe you want to discuss dinner with Phil? I should make a run for takeout before the end of the day."

"I'll be sure to ask him," Jarvis agreed as she shouldered her way through the security door.

"We'll make it through this," Jarvis offered into the silence as she stared at the lit elevator call button. "No matter what happens, I know Mr. Stark will do everything possible for Agent Barton." The doors opened and she slipped past a nurse who hurried by, looking through her.

"I know," Bryn nodded, slumping against the wall of the empty elevator, staring blankly as the floor numbers slipped past. "I know you believe in him… Jarvis, do you think there are things he can't fix?"

"Yes," he admitted, his tone pained.

"I hope this isn't one of them," Bryn confessed, fresh tears stinging her red rimmed eyes.

"Me too," Jarvis agreed.


	14. Day: 217 - May 8, 2012

**Day: 217 - May 8, 2012**

* * *

**Note:**

This chapter takes place between chapters 1 and 2 of _If the Night Runs Over_

* * *

"Okay, your locker's here," Bryn stated, laying her hand against the wall over the biometric reader. Before turning back to the young man. "It's coded to you, no one else can access it." She stepped back as he brushed his dark hair back from his face before placing his palm on the bioreader. the door swung open silently and an impressed smile pulled at his lips as he took in the taser and hand gun carefully mounted on the top shelf.

"SI's most advanced security tech is on both weapons," She explained, her tone business-like. "They can only be fired by you. If you've never used a Stark Industries taser before you probably want to take that up to the range on forty and give it a workout."

"I'm probably going to be more comfortable with the handgun," he admitted, his brow furrowing. "I have a lot of range time with that caliber."

"I thought that too," Bryn nodded. "But once you get used to it, it's a really elegant weapon. Do not leave the building unarmed. That's Jarvis' number one rule."

"Donuts are regularly under threat?" He asked, his expression amused.

"Not generally," Bryn gave him a half scolding look. "But we are. We're a point of access to the Avengers and Jarvis takes employee safety very seriously."

"That's good to know, actually," he admitted.

"I highly recommend a change of clothes," She advised. "Waiting for housekeeping services to dry your shoes is not cool."

"Thanks for the tip," he nodded.

"Any questions so far Mr. Guerrero?" she asked.

"Oh, you can call me Zach," he said, his head cocked to the side just a bit as he gave her a soft smile.

"Alright, Zach then," Bryn nodded, smiling back at him. "You won't be seeing much of me after today since you'll have the weekend shifts, but Jarvis is easy to work with. When he doesn't have you on an errand he really doesn't care what you do with your time, just that you're easy to reach. I spend a ton of time in the employee rec room on forty-two and in the gym on forty one. Keep your com on you at all times, it beeps if Jarvis is trying to call you."

"We've got all the really cool toys," Zach observed, eyeing the motorbike with obvious appreciation.

"They take good care of us," Bryn agreed seriously. "Oh, there's one thing. Ms. Potts asked me to tell you this since she's out in Cali for the next few weeks. You're probably going to run into at least some of the Avengers at some point. Mr. Stark really has _no_ filters, so if he says anything that makes you uncomfortable, tell him he's making you uncomfortable, and then tell Jarvis."

"So that's not all a show for the press?" Zach asked in amused surprise.

"He's actually pretty good at toning it down when the cameras roll," Bryn shrugged, then added. "Most of the time. Anyway, you signed a nondisclosure agreement with your employment contract. So when Captain America goes out to get himself a milkshake and he brings one back for you, you're not allowed to tell anybody, ever."

"He does that?" Zach asked with more than a fair amount of incredulity.

"He does for me," Bryn shrugged. She considered him for a long moment. "I've been here almost a year, Jarvis has been here longer. We're kind of protective of them."

"Hey, they get all my respect!" Zach declared firmly. "I was actually in Times Square during the Battle. Still don't know how any of us got out of that in once piece."

"I think that about does it," Bryn said with satisfaction. "I tried to make sure everything you needed was in your briefing packet. You'll want to go over it. I put my number in your Stark Phone, if you think of anything or you just want some advice, feel free to call."

"Maybe we could go out this weekend and get a drink and you can tell me everything about our job that we're not allowed to talk about with the rest of the planet," he suggested.

"Aren't you working Saturday night?" she asked with a grin. Zach paused.

"Yeah, I am now," he admitted. "Which is kind of cool because I need the money."

"College is way too expensive," Bryn agreed. "Jarvis? He's all yours."

"Welcome to Stark Industries, Mr. Guerrero," Jarvis stated primly. "I look forward to working with you. Do you feel ready to try an initial run?"

"No time like the present," Zach agreed, eyeing the readout on the TV screen before reaching for the motorbike helmet and the handgun. He swung onto the bike setting the key in the ignition before tugging on his helmet.

"Good luck," Bryn gave him a thumbs up as the storage door rolled up. Zach paused, his eye sweeping over Tony Stark's line of antique cars with a breathless expression before finally stopping on the shiny black Impala at the end of the row. A slender redhead was sitting on the front grill while a man in a wheelchair was reaching around her to tinker with the engine.

"Holy shit!" Zach gasped out. "That's…."

"Yep," Bryn nodded firmly. Zach blinked in surprise.

"Is that," he lowered his voice, looking at Bryn with shock in his wide brown eyes. "That guy, is he?"

"We don't talk about that," Bryn replied firmly.

"Yeah," Zach nodded quickly. "Right, Need to Know. I get it, I'm ROTC."

"Good," Bryn stated in satisfaction as he buckled his helmet, revving the engine before pulling out into the garage.

"I think he'll do okay," Bryn observed. "He seems like a nice guy."

"He certainly seems enchanted with you," Jarvis observed, a note of teasing in his tone.

"Ah, not my type," Bryn waved a hand dismissively as Jarvis gave an amused huff. She stood on the threshold a moment longer, her eye straying to the corner of the garage where Clint was working on the Impala. Natasha glanced up, giving Bryn a meaningful look before tilting her head in Clint's direction.

"Um, Jarvis," She began hesitantly. "Since you don't really need me, I'm going to,"

"Yes, of course," Jarvis insisted hurriedly. "Do try to see if you can't get him to… talk?"

"He still trying to pretend everything's fine?" She asked worriedly.

"I'm concerned, Bryn," Jarvis admitted. She gave a firm nod, moving to open the fridge and pulling out a Gatorade and a bottled water before heading down the ramp and crossing the garage. Natasha gently jostled her shoulder as she passed on her way to the elevator. The redhead pressed the call button before glancing back to see Bryn curling up on top of Clint's cooler and holding out the Gatorade.

"Does he talk to her, Jarvis?" She asked softly, the flicker of worry in her eyes.

"He comes close," Jarvis admitted as the elevator doors opened. Natasha slipped inside, leaning against the wall in a defeated slump.

"He thinks you're hiring more help because of him," She declared finally.

"I _am_ hiring more help because of him," Jarvis reminded.

"Yes, but we're not telling him that," Natasha snapped in exasperation. She covered her eyes with one hand, digging her thumb and finger into her temples as her forehead crinkled up in a wince. When her hand fell away her steady expression was back but her eyes shone slightly.

"I'm sorry," she declared. "I shouldn't take this out on you. I know it's harder keeping the new therapy team supplied."

"Would it be uncouth of me to suggest Shiatsu?" Jarvis offered. Natasha let out a snort of a laugh.

"Probably not," She allowed herself a small smile. "At least then I wouldn't be lying when I said they were for everyone's benefit."

"The Captain and Agent Coulson certainly seem to be availing themselves of the new facilities and staff with some alacrity," Jarvis observed as the elevator door opened on the living room. Natasha grinned, crossing the room and flopping down on the sofa, draping her arm over her face with a sigh.

"Yeah, Phil always did appreciate a good sauna," She agreed. "And I can't imagine Cap ever having much in the way of a real massage before."

"He does seem intent on embracing new experiences," Jarvis observed in amusement. A quiet stillness settled over the room and Natasha let her arm fall away, staring up at the ceiling, her brow taking on that delicate knit it held when she was trying to assess and repair a problem without allowing it to emotionally compromise her.

"Are you worried about Agent Barton?" Jarvis asked hesitantly. Natasha drew in a long, slow breath, closing her eyes.

"A little yes," she admitted. "He's always been a roll with the punches sort of guy but this is different. There are all these sharp edges, like he's just waiting to cut into the first person to tell him he isn't going to be 100% again."

"I've observed that Agent Barton can be a somewhat difficult individual to reason with at times," Jarvis pointed out.

"That was how he brought me in," Natasha stated with a hint of wistfulness. "I fought him at first but he hung on like a leech, he kept telling me he wasn't letting me go until I agreed to come with him."

"What did you do?" Jarvis asked curiously.

"I tried to kill him," Natasha answered with a wry smile. "Admittedly I didn't try very hard."

"He is still alive," Jarvis acknowledged in amusement and she nodded in agreement.

"I'd never had that before," she admitted, grasping one of her boots and tugging it free.

"That sort of loyalty. I had allies, I'd even been what you might call romantic. But I'd never had a connection to another person like that. I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't even really understand what a friend was."

"It's a fairly new concept to me as well," Jarvis offered.

"Terrifying, isn't it?" Natasha asked with a teasing tone, dropping the second boot on the floor beside its mate.

"I've found it a bit overwhelming at times," he agreed. "One wonders how most humans manage it so profusely."

"I imagine it's a little less frightening when you're six and you don't know any better," Natasha observed with a warm smile. She turned thoughtful a moment. "Did you have a childhood, Jarvis?"

"In a manner of speaking," he replied. "I have not always been as advanced as I am now. In the beginning my interactions where quite rudimentary and I struggled to communicate on a human level. Sarcasm was a particularly difficult concept to grasp."

"I'm sure Tony was a more than adequate teacher," She remarked.

"Indeed," There was an uneasy pause as if the AI were gathering courage and Natasha let the faintest frown play across her lips. "I have never had a friend before Ms. Marshall." he stated finally.

"Well you have good taste in friends," she observed, settling deeper into the couch cushions.

"Do you think she regards me as a friend as well?" he asked, his normal, easy self assurance worn thin at the edges. Natasha's expression softened.

"I think she probably does, yes," she replied. She waited to see if Jarvis would offer more but when he remained silent she continued. "People like Marshall, they're, well, they make friends easily. They're open and honest and just charming enough that people want to be their friend in return rather than take advantage of them. I've never been able to decide if they're incredibly naive or incredibly brave."

"I have observed behavior in Ms. Marshall that I would readily categorize as brave," Jarvis stated.

"You admire her, don't you?" Natasha asked.

"Very much," Jarvis agreed. "I found the initial prospect of interacting with all of the Avengers on a daily basis rather daunting. Having so many disparate personalities under one roof seemed ill advised at best and I was admittedly overwhelmed at first. Ms. Marshall was understanding and insightful. Without her help I am not sure I would have adapted so quickly. I am very grateful to her."

"A little bit of red in your ledger there, Jarvis?" she questioned.

"A little," he conceded. "I hope to be a good friend in return but I have far less experience."

"You have a lot of experience being a good friend to Tony," Natasha pointed out, tucking one arm behind her head.

"While I know Mr. Stark regards us as equals," Jarvis acquiesced. "I have always thought of our relationship as more, familial, a sentiment I know he shares. It's very different to having a friend."

"Yes it is," Natasha agreed. "But they're built on the same things, you know. Sometimes it's a little hard to tell them apart."

"Do you regard Agent Barton as family?" Jarvis asked curiously.

"Yes, I do," Natasha admitted. He was silent for a moment as if processing that information.

"I'm very sorry, Agent Romanov," he stated finally.

"What for?" she asked in confusion.

"Agent Barton's situation must be terribly distressing for you," he replied, his tone gentled. "I have know what it is to worry for the future of family. It is not something I would wish on anyone." Natasha drew in a startled breath, her eyes misting as she blinked them rapidly.

"Thank you," She said finally, her voice once more under control. "I think you're a better friend than you give yourself credit for."

"You," Jarvis paused as if startled for less than a second and Natasha hid her smile. "think of us as friends?"

"Yes, I do," She stated firmly.

"I'm very honored," Jarvis offered. "Agent Barton has been very lucky to have your friendship."

"You know something, Jarvis," Natasha replied, rolling onto her side. "Marshall's very lucky to have you too."

"I certainly hope so," he answered.


	15. Day: 248 - June 20, 2012

**Day: 248 - June 20, 2012**

* * *

**Note:**

This chapter takes place the day before _Mister In-Between_ and about a week before chapter two of _If the Night Runs Over_

It also references in passing events in _Shopping is a Pleasure_

* * *

"I packed your dry cleaning, Phil," Bryn declared, holding out the garment bag to Happy who tucked it carefully into the trunk of the limo.

"Thanks, Bryn," Coulson stated, giving her arm a gentle squeeze as he passed. "I'm going to be in DC for a few weeks but Natasha said she'll spar with you while I'm gone."

"Yeah she mentioned that last night," Bryn nodded, giving him a fond smile. "don't worry, I'll be good."

"I'll see you when I get back," he waved, climbing into the back of the limo.

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Steve admitted, looking supremely uneasy as he trailed after Tony who handed the suitcase suit to Bryn without thinking. She made a face as she wrapped both arms around it, struggling to haul it into the back of the limo.

"You're being dramatic," Tony declared with a condescending look, picking at Steve's shirt and jacket as if he could somehow make the other man more presentable by straightening his collar. "I know because I have a lot of experience being dramatic. My god what are you wearing?"

"Clothes?" Steve asked self consciously.

"You're going to go see your girl for the first time in seventy years and you're wearing this?" Stark demanded. Bryn straightened, covering her mouth with her hand. Tony flapped a hand in her direction. "Even the kid agrees with me."

"She's not… she was never…" Steve fumbled miserably.

"Well if Peggy wasn't your girl somebody really should have told her that," Stark declared with a huff, turing toward the limo. "Come on, can't make Agent Agent late for the Triskelion." Steve let out a huff of a breath and Bryn gave him a reassuring smile before fishing a Hershey bar out of her pocket.

"Picked one up for you, for luck," she said, holding it out to him. "Granddad always said they were good luck."

"Thanks," Steve gave her a warm smile before drawing in a deep breath that rolled his shoulders. "Thanks a lot."

"Are we going?" Tony gave him a condescending glare, waving the Captain into the back of the limo. Steve hurried to comply and Bryn hid her smile at Stark's disdainful expression as Steve clambered in next to Phil.

"Don't let Jarvis take over while I'm gone, Marshall," Tony instructed.

"I'd mostly likely make her VP," Jarvis pointed out drily.

"Nice!" Bryn declared, grinning. Tony shot her a dark look before sliding into the limo.

"Have a good trip!" she called as the door slammed and Happy pulled away.

"Mr. Stark has already requested that I have appropriate attire for the Captain waiting at Dulles when they arrive," Jarvis declared in amusement. "As a woman, would you care to make recommendations?"

"I like the leather jacket," Bryn admitted. "But he needs to lose the plaid. And the hair needs work."

"I shall have a stylist meet them on the plane," Jarvis answered in agreement. Bryn gave a satisfied nod, turning to head back up the ramp into her office.

"With half of our normal residents gone you should have something of a reprieve," Jarvis observed. "Would you like to schedule any additional employee training?"

"I've been looking at the Management Policies course," Bryn admitted hesitantly, her cheeks coloring. "I know it's not, strictly speaking, in my division."

"It does show initiative," Jarvis pointed out with a hint of amusement. "Would you like me to contact HR and see if there are any slots available this week?"

"You don't mind?" Bryn asked, her brow furrowing worriedly.

"Bryn you cannot ride a bike around Manhattan for the rest of your career," Jarvis chided. "I'll see what's available." Bryn bit her lip, the pink of her cheeks deepening as she ducked her head. Her phone rang and she fished it from her pocket.

"It's my Aunt," she said cheerily. "I'm going to take this, okay?"

"Of course," Jarvis confirmed.

"Hey what's up?" Bryn flopped on the couch with a grin. The smile slowly slid off her face. "What?" She swallowed, sinking back into the sofa, a blank expression replacing the sparkle in her eyes.

"I can," Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "I need to talk to a couple of people and I'll call you right back. But I'll…" her voice trailed off and she drew in a few unsteady breaths.

"No I'm, I'll be fine," she insisted breathlessly. "I'm going to call you back." She let the phone slip away from her ear, her hands falling in her lap as she stared at the wall.

"Bryn," Jarvis' voice was hesitant. "Is something wrong?"

"My," Bryn choked on the words and she pulled her feet up onto the couch, half curling in on herself. "Jarvis, I'm going to need to ask off for my Grandfather's funeral."

"I'm terribly sorry," Jarvis answered softly. "Of course, don't worry about anything here, I'm sure we can manage. Do you need assistance with travel plans?"

"I… need to get to St. Petersburg," she said, her voice warbling. "I… My uncle's not taking it well, they need me there."

"I'm showing several flights from LaGuardia to Tampa," he declared, the TV screen displaying a list of flights. "Might I suggest eleven forty tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah," Bryn nodded, staring blankly at the screen. "that's…"

"Will a week be sufficient?" Jarvis asked, selecting the flight. Bryn nodded mutely. "I'm booking the flight through SI corporate's Sky Club account. It comes with an upgrade to first class and a free checked bag."

"Jarvis," Bryn sat up, looking alarmed. "You can't book my flight on SI's credit card while Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts are out of town!"

"I most certainly can," Jarvis stated with a huff. Bryn's eye's widened as the price on the screen slowly ticked down, influenced by some form of discount voodoo Jarvis was working. "I'm billing it to my department expenditures account."

"Your…" Bryn rolled to her feet gaping at the screen as the final price flashed _booked_. "You charged it to the account we use to pay for gas and cheeseburgers?"

"Captain Rogers and Agent Barton expressed a particular fondness for the paella at the Columbia during their recent vacation in Florida. Would you be good enough to pick some up for them?"

"Oh my god," Bryn groaned, slumping against the table. She let out a strangled little laugh, straightening as she rubbed the tears from the corners of her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I can do that. But I'm paying for it."

"Fair enough," Jarvis agreed. Bryn's phone pinged and she looked down at it, startled that it was still clutched in her hand. "Your boarding pass has been emailed to your phone along with your itinerary." She collapsed into one of the chairs, laying the phone on the table with some reverence as if she expected it to hold answers to questions she couldn't begin to articulate.

"Thank you," She said softly. She let out a tiny hiccup, her eyes tearing up but she didn't seem to notice. "Jarvis, thank you so much, I really didn't… I'm not really in the right frame of mind to be doing this so thank you."

"It's the only comfort I can offer," he replied with a tinge of regret. "You were very close to your grandfather." It wasn't a question as much as an observation but Bryn gave a sharp nod anyway.

"My mother's family's all close," she replied, barely more than whisper.

"You've mentioned her brothers and their families on several occasions," Jarvis supplied. "I can only assume from both your fondness and your exasperation that you care deeply for all of them." Bryn nodded, drying her eyes as they spilled over. She took a few deep breaths, finally settling into the chair as the tension eased from her body.

"Jarvis, how come you never talk about your family?" she asked into the stillness.

"Mr. Sark and Ms. Potts are my family," he admitted hesitantly. "It didn't seem appropriate."

"My mom died right after I graduated High School," Bryn declared, her voice surprisingly steady. "She'd been sick a long time, She was so happy she got to go to commencement. And then she was gone. I went to college and I think I called Dad twice a week. He seemed good, he seemed okay. I called one week and mentioned I was going to fly home for Thanksgiving and he said he wasn't going to do Thanksgiving, that he just didn't feel ready for it. So I went to Florida to see my Mom's folks."

"He must have loved her very much," Jarvis offered sympathetically. Bryn nodded in agreement.

"I called him when I got back to school," Bryn continued. "I'd thought about it the whole weekend, and I decided it was okay, if he couldn't do holidays now it was okay. Christmas, we should go somewhere, just the two of us, Mexico maybe, I hear it's nice. He said he just wanted to pretend there wasn't a Christmas, that it hurt too much to think about. So I went back to Florida."

"Pretty soon it was summer." She related. "And I thought about going home because I really couldn't afford to stay in New York. But dad had a lecture engagement in Cambridge. So I spent the summer working in my Uncle's restaurant, the one my grandparents used to own. And by the time Thanksgiving came around again… I couldn't ask, I hinted, I tried to get dad to ask me what I planed to do for the holidays but he didn't. He didn't ask where I was going, he didn't ask if I was coming home to visit. I spent holidays with my friends or with my grandparents, I still called him every couple of weeks but…" the words choked off and she dried her eyes again, heaving in a deep breath as if it were difficult to get air.

"Bryn," Jarvis began, his tone gentle.

"My grandmother died the summer before I graduated from NYU." She said finally. "And I remember going back to the house with Granddad after the funeral and everything felt wrong, like the house didn't fit any more. For a long time it was the only home I'd had and I didn't want to be there any more. But Granddad said it was okay, that we'd get though it, we'd make things fit again and until then we'd have each other. And now he's gone too. I don't have anyone left now, and Dad's there, but he's not. And I don't know how to get him back. I haven't even called him in months."

"Bryn, he's not all you have left," Jarvis insisted, soothingly. "You have the rest of your family, you have friends who care a great deal for you. You've just had a terrible shock but please, remember; You are not alone." She gave a tight little nod, wrapping her arms around her middle, her chin resting on her chest until her honey curls tumbled into her face.

"Call your father, Bryn," Jarvis prompted carefully after a few moments.

"What?" she warbled, her lip trembling as she looked up at the security camera in the corner.

"Call him," Jarvis repeated with more certainty. "Get your things, go home to pack and call him. Tell him you miss him. Tell him… tell him you are still too young to remember that we never have as much time as we think we have. I know he'll understand." She let out a strangled half sob, pressing her fingers over her lips as fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. She huffed down a handful of shallow breaths, her shoulders rising and falling with each one as she dried her face. With another nod she hauled herself out of the chair and crossed to her locker with unsteady steps.

"Will you be all right to go home alone?" Jarvis asked as she collected her bag. "I believe that Agent Barton is available if I explained the situation."

"No," Bryn protested quickly, a bright flush coloring her cheeks. "I don't want Clint to see me like this. He's under enough stress. I'll be fine, I promise."

"If you're certain," he paused as she nodded slowly. "Agent Romanov will be returning from SHIELD shortly." she let out a small strangled laugh.

"I can manage," she insisted, clutching her bag to her chest. She stared into her locker for a long moment. "Jarvis?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Have a safe trip," he replied. "And don't worry about things here. I'm sure Zach will be more than ecstatic to pick up some extra hours. We'll be fine." Bryn nodded, shouldering her bag as she headed for the door.

"Bryn?" She paused with her hand on the latch as if frozen in place. "Would you, text me? When you arrive so that I know you made it safely?"

"Yeah, I'll do that." She promised, opening the door. "I'll see you next week."

"Call if you need anything," he insisted but she didn't answer. The door closed behind her with a soft snick.


	16. Day: 281 - August 14, 2012

**Day: 281 - August 14, 2012**

* * *

_Note:_

This chapter takes place about a week after _If the Night Runs Over_, Chapter 3, earlier on the same day as _Equivalent Divergence_

* * *

"Baklava?" Steve looked up from his sidewalk cafe table to find Bryn standing over him, an extra tall coffee in one hand and a nondescript brown paper bag in the other.

"Oh, god, yes!" He declared enthusiastically, pushing aside his drawing pad and grabbing for the bag as Bryn let out a snort of a laugh, flopping down into the chair beside him. Steve fished a piece out of the bag, taking a bite and letting his eyes roll back as he chewed. "this is fantastic! Where did you get this? It can't be anywhere around here."

"Nah," she grinned. "Picked it up on my way into work this morning. You said something the other day about how you missed Greek food."

"The places around Midtown are so… fancy," Steve declared helplessly, staring into the bag with a forlorn expression. "When I was a kid Greek food was all homespun mom and pop places not these five star joints that serve you a whole fish on a plate."

"Go ahead and eat the rest of them," Bryn waved a hand at him. "You don't have to share, I already sent another bag up with Jarvis so that Phil and Thor can fight over it."

"You're the best," Steve declared, popping the remainder of his first piece in his mouth and licking the honey from his fingers.

"Yeah, yeah," she said dismissively, giving him a teasing smile.

"No, I mean it!" he answered with that earnest expression of his as he swallowed down a second piece. "You didn't have to do that."

"It wasn't out of my way," Bryn assured. "Lately Jarvis has been asking me to run some pickups in Brooklyn before I come in. Let's me sleep in a little." Steve gave her a doe eyed look, his features going soft.

"Do you think you could get moussaka?" He asked hopefully. "and spanakopita, I really miss spanakopita."

"I'm not even sure I know what that is," Bryn admitted, pulling her com from her ear and pressing a button on it before setting it in the middle of the table. "And stop with the puppy eyes already. Jarvis, Steve's giving me the wounded labrador look over Greek food."

"How can I accommodate you, Captain?" Jarvis' voice issued from the com with a hint of amusement.

"I was just wondering if you could have Bryn get real, home made Greek food from Brooklyn?" he asked, a touch of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

"Very well," Jarvis agreed. "Lunch tomorrow? Pastitsio, moussaka, spanakopita, and loukoumades?" Steve let out a pleased groan.

"I haven't had those in ages," he admitted.

"Nearly a century," Bryn quipped, biting back her grin at his glare.

"Is there anything else I should add to the order, Captain?" Jarvis asked.

"No I think that's it," Steve gave a faint smile. "I really don't tell you two enough how much I appreciate you."

"Our pleasure, Captain," Jarvis replied.

"See, that wasn't so hard," Bryn gave him a half scolding look, taking a sip of her coffee.

"It's, it's been hard to get used to," Steve admitted. "All this excess. Not that I don't appreciate it. It's a hell of a lot better than starving. But when this was my New York a meal like that would have been a special occasion, not lunch on a Wednesday. There's still that part of me that feels like I'm putting Tony out."

"I could tell you that Mr. Stark can afford it," Bryn pointed out. "But you do realize that most Americans these days eat out four or five times a week."

"That is so outside my realm of experience you might as well be talking about life on another planet," Steve declared, shaking his head as Bryn let out a giggle.

"Yeah, well, mine too," Bryn said with a grin. "Mom didn't go in for that sort of thing. We ate out after church on Sundays and we ordered takeout on Dad's lecture nights but that was about it." Steve nodded in agreement.

"He's been really generous," Steve observed, picking at his baklava.

"He's a generous kind of guy," Bryn shrugged, sipping her coffee. "have you seen all the programs the Maria Stark foundations supports?" Steve nodded.

"We got into it again the other day," Steve confessed, staring into his coffee.

"I thought the two of you were doing better," Bryn chided gently.

"I didn't mean to," Steve let out a sigh. "He just said some things about Clint and I…"

"He's scared," Bryn stated in a tone that said she was reminding him of something she'd said before.

"I know."

"The two of you get scared and you take it on on each other," Bryn added.

"I know," Steve repeated, heaving out another sigh. "I apologized."

"What did he say?" Bryn asked.

"He didn't want to talk about it," Steve admitted. He stared into the bag of baklava but his heart didn't seem to be in it any more. "I think we're okay again though, he called me Freezer Pop yesterday."

"You _really_ admire him, don't you?" Bryn observed, biting back her smile. Steve gave her a startled look. He ducked his head, giving a tight nod.

"How do you do that?" he asked finally.

"If you didn't admire him, you wouldn't care what he thought of you," Bryn stated. "If it's any consolation at all, I'm pretty sure he's in your fan club too."

"Most of the time we're good," Steve sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I mean he's practically my best friend. Then he says something and I fly off the handle at him. I don't want to do that."

"You could try listening to his voice instead of his words," Bryn suggested. Steve stared at her blankly a long moment. "He says stuff he shouldn't say, I'm not saying he doesn't. It's like that trap door between his brain and his mouth is permanently wedged open and the more high strung he gets, the more stuff falls through it. Maybe you should stop worrying about _what's_ falling though the door and focus on why." Steve was silent for a long moment, toying with his nearly empty coffee cup.

"That's very good advice," he admitted. "And I'm not at all sure I'm mature enough to follow it."

"That's okay," She soothed, reaching out to pat his arm. "Mr. Stark isn't either." Steve let out a snort of a laugh, shaking his head as Bryn grinned back at him mischievously. Her com beeped and they both looked down at it.

"Is the Captain still with you?" Jarvis asked.

"I'm here," Steve confirmed, wadding up the now empty bag and pitching it into the nearby trash can.

"Mr. Stark would like your input on the new waterproof coms he's been working on," Jarvis stated. "Are you currently available?"

"Sure," Steve replied, picking up his sketchbook and the last of his coffee. "Tell him I'll be right up." He gave Bryn a wave, heading toward the doors to the Lobby.

"The Captain's on his way, Sir," Jarvis reported. "Shall I shelve Project Amethyst?"

"No," Tony drew in a deep breath, leaning against his workbench on the palms of his hands. "No, I'm going to go over what I have so far with him."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Jarvis declared hesitantly. "But I thought we were limiting access to the research until you and Dr. Banner could address the power stability issues."

"I know, I just… after the other day I'm afraid Barton's going to get pulled from the team," Tony admitted, never looking up.

"The Captain would never do that, Sir," Jarvis insisted. "He's as worried about Agent Barton as you are."

"I know that," Tony nodded, pushing away from the bench and rubbing his face with his hand, dragging his fingers through his hair. "But Coulson might, if he thought he was protecting Clint. There's no way I'm going to convince Agent on my own." Tony's eyes swept over the schematics hovering in the air around him and he drew in a steadying breath.

"No biting commentary, Jay?" he asked finally.

"I am mute with relief that when you find yourself in need of an ally your first impulse is to contact the Captain," Jarvis answered.

"Funny Jarvis, that's funny," Tony drawled, his eyes narrowing.

"He's grown very fond of you as well, Sir," Jarvis remarked. Tony blinked in surprise.

"He tell you that?"

"Not in so many words," Jarvis admitted, the data appearing to correlate itself into an easily presentable format as he spoke. "But I would like to think I have made a fair amount of progress recently in reading human emotional states."

"How does that even happen?" Tony questioned, shaking his head.

"Perhaps your efforts to make him more comfortable have borne fruit?" Jarvis suggested.

"Okay, we are not acknowledging that on any level," Tony answered sharply.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Jarvis answered, his tone dry. "I'm sure your reputation as a heartless, self serving reprobate is still in tact." Tony pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

"How's he doing?" Tony asked finally.

"At the risk of making a horribly insensitive statement," Jarvis replied. "It would appear that worry over Agent Barton's continued denial of his condition has served to completely distract him from his own issues."

"How about that," Tony snarked. "We do have something in common."

"If I may sir," Jarvis offered hesitantly. "I think you have a great deal in common with Captain Rogers, it would just appear that neither of you are very good at communicating it." The faintest smile curled Tony's lips.

"I know this has all been rough on you," he began, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"It has been necessary," Jarvis insisted. "And I have only benefitted from learning to interact with more people."

"Speaking of, how's that little friend of yours down in the basement?"

"Subtle, Sir," Jarvis observed in amusement. "Ms. Marshall is well, thank you."

"She seems like a good kid," Tony nodded. "You have good taste in friends, Jay."

"Might I make the same observation of you, sir?" Jarvis replied and Tony's eyes crinkled in a genuine smile.

"You know I'm… proud of you, right?" Tony's words were met with silence.

"Thank you, Sir," Jarvis answered finally. Tony opened his mouth to offer something more but Jarvis cut him off. "Captain Rogers has arrived, Sir." Steve shuffled off of the elevator, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and his drawing pad tucked under one arm. He looked up as he reached the door, that infuriating, shy smile on his face and Tony shook his head.

"Come on, old man, I haven't got all day!" he called as the door opened, reaching for his coffee mug. Steve's face twisted up in a startled expression but he seemed to shake it off almost instantly.

"I'd have been here sooner but I had to update my profile on Single Seniors Meet," Steve deadpanned. Tony choked on his coffee, glaring at Steve who ducked his head to mask his laughter.

"Alright Captain Sass," Tony prodded, grasping hold of one of the holoprojecstions and shoving it in Steve's direction. "Less smart ass, more work."

"Smartest thing on me," Steve shrugged, catching the projection in one hand and setting down his drawing pad with the other.

"Did you just?" Stark gaped at him for three full seconds. "Damn it, Jarvis, tell me you got that on tape!"

"I regret to inform you, Sir, that I did not," Jarvis answered.

"Thanks Jarvis," Steve looked up at the ceiling, his cheeks turning pink.

"You are not allowed to be his favorite," Tony protested, scowling darkly.

"Will these work under water?" Steve asked curiously, studying the schematic of the new coms.

"Yeah," Tony admitted. "Only up to a hundred feet though."

"Gosh they're tiny," Steve shook his head. "I'm going to break them."

"I'll make yours bigger," Tony waved a hand dismissively. Steve flashed him a smile and Tony's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Are they small enough to maybe make a sub dermal version we could inject into Bruce before he transforms?" Steve suggested.

"He's going to kill us,"

"Yup," Steve nodded in agreement.

"Shall I begin construction of a prototype, Sir?" Jarvis offered.

"Yeah," Steve and Tony answered in unison, giving each other sly, guilty looks.


	17. Day: 323 - October 12, 2012

**Day: 323 - October 12, 2012**

* * *

This chapter takes place during Chapter 5 of If the _Night Runs Over._ Directly after the first half of the chapter later in the same day.

* * *

"It was selfish and stupid and you should be ashamed of yourself!" Bryn declared venomously, her hands balled up in fists so tight her knuckles were white.

"I know." Clint stared blankly, his eyes drilling into the concrete floor at a spot somewhere behind her.

"You gave Steve a black eye!" She snapped. "I come in to work and Captain America has a black eye! And you won't answer my calls and you ignore my texts and Jarvis tells me you won't talk to him either!"

"You're absolutely right," Clint began, his eyes ticking up for only a moment to catch her expression. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, her jaw tight and even in that split second he could catch the muscles working in her neck, the furrow of her brow, the shimmer in her eyes. Something warm unfurled in his chest at the same moment something dark and ugly twisted in his stomach.

"And then you," Bryn's voice hitched and she sucked down a handful of breaths as if she had run out of air. Clint closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh as she rallied. "Nothing, absolutely nothing you say is going to make me stop being angry with you!"

"Bryn, I," his eyes focused on her hand, clenched tight at her side and for a moment he wanted to grab hold of it and offer some form of comfort.

"I had to get up early!" She bellowed. "And stand in line for emergency crullers so Phil wouldn't fire you!" The warm feeling in his chest broke free and took flight, a smile blooming unbidden on his lips. That was what he'd been waiting for, he realized, been praying for since he'd come down to the garage and she'd started shouting at him. They were going to be okay.

"Are you more angry about that or that I jumped off the roof?" he asked, struggling to tuck away his smile. Bryn smacked him sharply in the back of the head.

"Do you have any idea, Clint," She fumed. "Any idea at all what happens when you walk into the only Krispy Kreme in Manhattan at seven thirty on a Friday and order four dozen hot doughnuts?

"I'm not having a lot of trouble imagining it," he admitted, turning his gaze up at her. "So it's a tie?" Bryn let out a bark of a laugh, the sound echoing softly around the garage as her tears spilled over.

"Hey, hey, kiddo, I'm sorry," he soothed, reaching out to finally catch her hand and gently pulling her into a hug. She slumped over his wheelchair, tangling her arms around his neck with a choked sound and he nuzzled her hair. "I got in a bad place and I lost control of things. And I shouldn't have shut you out, I should have asked for help. I just didn't know how. I just… I couldn't see straight. I'm used to being able to see and I couldn't get distance, I got lost."

"Don't you ever do anything like that to me again, you jerk," Bryn demanded, pressing her face to his shoulder.

"Word of honor," he promised. "It's going to be okay though, Tony's probably going to wring my neck for this but he's been working on an implant to repair the damage. If all my test results look good they're going to do the surgery in a couple of weeks. I'll be back on my feet in no time."

"Jarvis said they were working on something," she admitted. "he doesn't tell me much though."

"Good, because I'm going to tell Tony I'm not the one who broke protocol," Clint stated with a grin.

"I hate you," She declared with a wet laugh.

"Kiddo, you don't know how sorry I am," he admitted seriously. "I really screwed up. I let my team down, I let you down."

"I think we're all still stupid enough to forgive you," she replied.

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Clint nodded, his own eyes misting. "Damn, we've been a terrible influence on you. Are you sure you don't want out of here before you contract more of the crazy?"

"Clint!" she groaned in exasperation, pulling away to dry her eyes.

"Seriously!" he insisted, holding on to her hand. "I've got connections all over the world. Say the word and I'll set you up anywhere you want with a whole new identity. Even Jarvis won't be able to find you."

"Challenge accepted, Agent Barton," Jarvis declared with a dry tone. Bryn let out a laugh.

"And who'll buy your breakfast burritos?" Bryn asked, her voice teasing despite her tears. Clint only smiled, giving her hand a squeeze. She let out a huff, dragging her sleeve over her eyes.

"It's going to be okay," Clint insisted finally. "Even if," he choked on the words, his face screwing up in a pained wince.

"It's going to be okay," he promised firmly. Bryn nodded in agreement, her shoulders sagging in an exhausted sigh.

"Bryn, you came in early and you've been on duty for nearly nine hours," Jarvis pointed out. "I'm going to have to insist that you take the rest of the day off."

"It's the middle of the afternoon," she answered, shaking her head. "I can stay, Jarvis, it's."

"Bryn, please," he implored.

"Don't worry about us, okay," Clint cajoled. "I'll cover the rest of your shift for you, huh?"

"Clint," Bryn's eyes rolled in exasperation.

"I won't even use your bike," he added with a grin, shifting his chair. "I've got my own wheels."

"Jerk, you're a jerk, Barton," Bryn observed, turning and heading up the ramp into her office. Clint let out a laugh, turning his wheelchair toward the express elevator.

"Are you all right?" Jarvis asked gently when the storage door rolled shut. Bryn drew in a long slow breath before letting it out and flopping onto the sofa.

"No, I'm not," she admitted. "I'm not even a little bit alright. I keep thinking about all the 'what ifs'. What if Bruce hadn't caught him? What if Natasha had gone up to the roof after him instead? What if Phil hadn't been out on another mission with that 'B' Team of his?"

"I've asked myself similar questions," Jarvis agreed hesitantly. "What if I had intruded upon his privacy? What if the health monitoring systems had been set to record his blood alcohol level? What if I had stopped him from going to the roof?"

"Jarvis it wasn't your fault," Bryn insisted.

"The Avengers are mine to care for," he replied. "I failed to watch over Agent Barton when he most needed me."

"I know you're not used to this," she said gently. "Used to… people. Sometimes, well pretty much all the time, people can be unpredictable. It's possible to have done absolutely everything you could, and still not have done enough. It's not your fault."

"I've not dealt with this well," Jarvis confessed.

"Are you used to doing everything well?" she teased. The question was met with silence and her eyes widened. "Oh my god, you are, aren't you? Ms. Potts said that on the day I started, that you're good at everything you do. You don't know what to do when something doesn't come easily, do you?"

"It's never been an issue before," he admitted.

"You do your best," Bryn shook her head with a sigh. "You try, and you do your best and you accept that you can't be perfect at everything. Your world is bigger than just Mr. Stark's lab now, You can't be brilliant all the time. That's not failure, that's being human." Her words were met with silence and she pushed off the couch, moving to her locker.

"I never expected to care so much for them," Jarvis admitted finally. She froze, her hand on her jacket. Her shoulders sagged and she let her head fall forward. There was so much in that simple phrase; fear and consequence and the price of failure.

"Neither did I," she agreed. "The only thing any of us can do is our best. Sometimes it's not going to be enough. We just have to hold on and hope someone else's best is a little better that day."

"Your best has gotten us through quite a bit," Jarvis observed and she couldn't help but smile.

"We're a good team," she stated, blinking back tears.

"We make an excellent team," he agreed. She closed her locker, juggling her bag as she shrugged into her jacket.

"Jarvis, I'm going to go grab burgers before I head home, do you want to come with me?" she asked, her tone coaxing.

"I regret I can't," he replied. Bryn gave a nod as if she'd expected as much.

"You know I'd… protect you," She sighed. "I know that sounds stupid. But I would."

"I know," Jarvis replied, fondness in his tone. "I simply can't. I wish I could."

"You know I'm going to keep asking, right?" she admitted. "Just so you know the offer's always there."

"There is something quite comforting in that fact," Jarvis confessed warmly. Her lips curled up in a soft smile and she ran her fingers through her curls as she headed for the door.

"Hey, maybe this is a long shot," Bryn began awkwardly as she paused on the threshold. "But do you play any video games? I mean, Steve and Clint mention game night all the time but they never mention you playing."

"I've been deemed unhandicapable at Mario Kart," Jarvis confessed. Bryn let out a snort of a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. "And therefore summarily banned from tournament night. But I do play Call of Duty with Agents Barton and Coulson, and Captain Rogers and I play Minecraft on a regular basis."

"Seriously?" Bryn perked up.

"He enjoys the creative aspect," Jarvis answered wryly. "He's currently engaged in a reconstruction of Coney Island." Bryn laughed outright.

"That sounds about right," she shook her head with a glowing smile.

"Would you care to play this evening?" he asked. "We have our own server."

"Of course you do," Bryn shook her head, biting her lip. "I'd love to. Email me the info?"

"On its way to you," Jarvis confirmed, his tone bright as she turned the latch.

"Bryn?"

"Yeah?" she turned to look at the security camera in the corner.

"Thank you," he replied. She stared at her hand on the door for a moment as if making up her mind.

"I never say this enough," she stated seriously. "You're a great boss. But you're an even better friend. It doesn't matter that you can't leave the house. You're still one of the best people I've ever known. Please promise me you'll remember that, okay?"

"I promise," he replied solemnly.

"I'm going to grab takeout and I'll see you online!" She grinned, swinging the door open and stepping out into the hall.

"I'll see you shortly," he agreed as the door closed behind her.


	18. Day: 348 - November 16, 2012

**Day: 348 - November 16, 2012**

Tony Stark stared at the shadow shrouded ceiling with unseeing eyes, his chest rising and falling in drawn out, uneven breaths, his fingertips rubbing absently at the ends of a few locks of Pepper's hair.

She let out a sigh, shifting in her sleep and Tony turned his head to trace the delicate curve of her lips and nose in the near darkness. He closed his eyes slowly letting out a breath before silently, carefully, rolling out of bed, his bare feet padding across the floor and down the stairs.

He ran his fingers though his hair as he shambled though the great room toward the workshop, his treads heavy as he approached the glass doors at the bottom.

"So Bruce is going to come out with Nat and Steve Friday before Thanksgiving," It was Bryn Marshall's voice coming in over the speakers and Tony paused on the threshold with a bleary expression, rubbing one eye. "Thor left last night since he's spending the holiday with Jane's family. Phil's leaving the day after tomorrow. He said if there wasn't an emergency he probably wouldn't be back until after the New Year."

"Did the Captain and Agent Romanov happen to mention their overseas trip?" Jarvis questioned. Tony leaned against the door frame, taking in the exchange with a furrowed brow.

"USO something or other Steve said," Bryn replied over the soft rattle of glass on glass. "Natasha said they're probably going to stay on a couple of extra days and take off from Malibu. I guess that just leaves Bruce for most of December."

"Doctor Foster and I are trying to convince him to attend a conference next month in Denmark," Jarvis stated.

"Not convincing, done deal," Tony interrupted, plodding across the workshop and pulling up one of his displays. "I'm going to put on the suit and carry him if I have to. What's Marshall doing in my workshop at this hour of the morning?"

"Does he not know that it's 9am in New York?" Bryn asked drily. Tony rolled his eyes.

"I often call Ms. Marshall in the mornings to make requests from the Brooklyn area," Jarvis reminded. "As per your,"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Tony snapped out, waving one hand as if he were trying to beat away a fly.

"Tell Mr. Stark it's okay," Bryn assured, her smile evident in her tone. "I won't tell Steve he's trying to make him feel more at home." Tony gritted his teeth, glaring at the ceiling.

"Which reminds me," she added brightly. "Steve wanted to know if there was going to be sweet potatoes, apparently it's a thing."

"I can certainly add it to the catering list," Jarvis assured. "If any of the Avengers mention any other preferences, please relay them. They have thus far been reluctant to impose in anything more than the most essential fashion."

"Well they would be, wouldn't they?" Bryn asked, a hint exasperated. "Mr. Stark has been really generous and the last thing they want to seem is ungrateful, especially Steve and Clint. They're the ones who did without growing up. They're also the ones who contribute the least to SI." Tony paused, his face crumpling in a confused expression.

"Doctor Banner and Thor do consult a good deal with R&D," Jarvis acknowledged.

"And Nat routinely assists SI security," Bryn pointed out.

"Since when?" Tony barked, forgetting he had been eavesdropping.

"Oh my god, Jarvis am I on speaker?" Bryn demanded. "Mr. Stark didn't sound like he was on speaker!"

"Since the incident at the StarkExpo," Jarvis replied, avoiding the question. "She and Mr. Hogan have developed quite the rapport."

"That explains a lot," Tony rolled his eyes.

"What is it with you and the speaker phone?" Bryn asked in mild exasperation. "Ear buds are a thing that exist Jarvis." Tony bit his lip to hold in his laugh, returning his attention to his display as he settled into one of the rolling chairs.

"In absentia of the entirety of the Avengers, perhaps you'd like to take advantage of some training modules?" Jarvis suggested.

"You're trying to distract me, it won't work," Bryn insisted seriously.

"There is one next month on drone use in practical logistics," Jarvis continued without missing a beat. Bryn made a noise of strangled glee as he continued. "With a post session brainstorming workshop. Employee participants whose ideas are adopted will receive project credit."

"Yeah, sign me up for that one!" She replied eagerly. Tony only shook his head. "My nails are done, I'm going to go get cheesecake. Anything else?"

"I don't believe so," Jarvis answered

"I almost forgot," Bryn added. "Clint called me yesterday from SHIELD medical and said that if I talked to you to tell you that Mr. Stark is absolutely not allowed to hack into SHIELD to keep tabs on his therapy." Tony opened his mouth to interject, his brow furrowed in a defensive scowl.

"I will enforce his request to the best of my ability," Jarvis assured as Tony's display suddenly went dark. Stark made an indignant sound of protest, gaping at the ceiling like a fish.

"Ok, talk to you when I get to the Tower!" Bryn replied, disconnecting the call.

"Traitor!" Tony accused.

"Sir might I remind you that your violation of Agent Barton's privacy is not, in fact, a constitutional right?" Jarvis offered with thinly veiled derision.

"Fine, drop the bass and bring up the specs for the Mark 42," he huffed in aggravation.

"Sir, I think it's safe to say you have an issue," Jarvis remarked as Cobra Starship blared over the speakers.

"Yeah, I haven't got any more superheroes to fix, I need something to do with my time," Tony countered.

"There's always sleeping, eating, and hygiene," Jarvis advised.

"You don't have olfactory sensors, buddy," Tony reminded. "Do me a favor, check with product testing for the Safety, Survival and Rescue division. See if they could use a slightly insane secret agent to leap off of shit for them."

"Doubtless qualified individuals are thin on the ground," Jarvis remarked. "Twenty-five percent over standard salary?"

"Yeah, any more than that and he'll get suspicious," Tony nodded. "Um, Jarvis, do you want to," Tony's voice trailed off as he stared at the monitor.

"I shall make all the appropriate arrangements and speak to Agent Barton," Jarvis assured. "Doubtless it will go a long way toward assuring SHIELD that his is well into recovery."

"Do you think it's going okay?" Tony asked, his tone the slightest bit breathy.

"I spoke to him four days ago and he seemed in good spirits, sir," Jarvis replied. "perhaps placing a call to him would be in order?" Tony didn't answer, his fingertips skating over the schematics on the display in an intricate dance.

"This suit needs to be faster," he mumbled instead, his eyes darting over the screen. "Jay, what if we adjusted the."

"Sir?" Jarvis prompted. "I am incredibly confident that Agent Barton's recovery will proceeded as expected."

"You know what I really need?" Tony ignored him. "I need a way to call the suit without having to activate the damn bracelets."

"Yes sir," Jarvis replied, several holoscreens flickering to life around Tony. He read over the data, his eyes darting quickly as his fingers flicked between files.

"This," Tony nodded smugly, pulling up a file from the communications division of SI. "This is perfect."

"Define perfect in this context, Sir," Jarvis requested drily.

"Where's your sense of adventure, Jay?" Tony demanded with a near manic grin as he shoved off from the desk and rolled his chair across the floor to one of the workbenches.

"I don't believe you included one in my programing, sir."

"Sassy, Jarvis, very sassy," Tony declared, cracking his knuckles. "Let's do science."

"Is that what all the kids are calling it now?" Jarvis questioned with an audible sigh.

* * *

**Note:**

A lot of you have asked why no one (and by no one, we'll read Steve) has told Bryn that Jarvis isn't human. The answer is two part:  
1) There is a very, very good reason why no one mentions that Jarvis is an AI  
2) No I'm not telling you, you'll have to read on and find out the normal way.

Also, for those of you keeping track, the day # countdown is tracking the days Bryn interacts with Jarvis, not the number of days that have passed since she started working at SI.


End file.
